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J'a  wers  &  WeVer's  £itft  flu  s  to  h 


BLANCH  AND  ARMAND 


TITAN  I  A: 
TALES  AND  LEGENDS, 

TRANSLATED  FROM  THE  GERMAN  OF 
AUGUSTE  LINDEN, 


BY 


GLtancxmantcl. 


BOSTON: 
CROSBY,  NICHOLS,  &  Co., 

Ill  Washington  Street. 

CINCINNATI  : 
GEORGE   S.  BLANC  HARD. 
1  8  5  7. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1S56,  by 
CROSBY,  NICHOLS,  &  CO., 
in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts. 


CAMBRIDGE  : 
ELECTROTYPED  AND  PRINTED  BY  METCALF  AND  COMPACT. 


TO 

MAGGIE  AND  MINNIE, 

TWO  LITTLE,  GENTLE,  LOVING,  TWIN  SPIRITS, 
THIS    VOLUME    IS    AFFECTIONATELY  INSCRIBED, 
BY 

THE  TRANSLATOR. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

THE   PAGE,  A   TALE  ....  1 

THE   MOUNTAIN-ELF'S   GIFT,  A  LEGEND  .  71 

THE   DEAR  RECKONING,  A   TRUE   STORY    .  101 

FILIAL  LOVE,  A  LEGEND      ....  181 


THE  PAGE. 

A  TALE. 


CHAPTER  I. 


BLANCHE  AND  ARMAND. 

At  a  short  distance  from  Paris  lies  a  charm- 
ing valley,  whose  green,  velvety  meadows  are 
watered  by  a  little  silver  brook.  The  mur- 
muring waves  dance  gayly  over  the  white  peb- 
ble-stones, and  the  stream  is  so  transparent 
that  the  roots  of  the  grasses  and  water-lilies 
springing  from  its  bed  can  plainly  be  distin- 
guished. 

The  valley  is  narrow,  and  enclosed  by  a  ridge 
of  green  hills,  which,  however,  open  towards 
the  south,  and  admit  a  more  extended  pros- 
pect. At  this  southern  extremity  the  brook 
"  formerly  meandered  through  a  pretty  village, 
with  neat,  white  houses,  each  surrounded  by 
a  well-kept  garden  of  flowers,  vegetables,  or 
fruit 


4 


THE  PAGE. 


At  the  end  of  the  village,  apart  from  the  rest, 
stood  a  somewhat  larger  dwelling.  It  was  a 
simple  but  cheerful  country-house,  whose  owner, 
M.  de  Saint- Alme,  had  formerly  lived  in  Paris, 
but  had  removed  thence,  and  at  the  time  of  our 
story  dwelt  with  his  family  in  great  retirement 
at  the  cottage. 

At  one  extremity  of  the  simple  flower-garden 
encircling  M.  de  Saint- Alme's  dwelling,  rose  a 
close  avenue  of  lofty  beech-trees  leading  to  the 
main  entrance  of  a  massive  building  of  gray 
stone.  This  edifice,  or  castle,  was  built  in  the 
old  style  ;  the  grass  growing  between  the  stones 
paving  the  court-yard  gave  evidence  that  no 
cheerful  or  order-loving  spirit  here  presided  over 
the  niceties  of  external  appearance. 

This  was  indeed  the  case.  Count  Roger  de 
Clairville,  an  old  knight  who  had  won  his  spurs 
under  King  Henry  the  Fourth,  had  here,  during 
many  years,  led  a  solitary  and  secluded  life. 
Count  Roger  had  loved  no  one  except  his 
king,  Henry,  and  after  the  death  of  his  idol, 
feeling  no  affection  towards  the  next  in  suc- 
cession, Louis,  he  retired  to  his  family  seat, 
where  he  lived  in  utter  solitude,  almost  forgot- 


BLANCHE   AND  ARMAND. 


5 


ten  by  a  world  in  which  he  no  longer  felt  the 
least  interest. 

His  dark  locks  had  grown  gray,  his  knightly 
spurs  were  rusty,  and  his  features,  once  hand- 
some and  winning,  had  become  hard,  stern,  and 
angular.  His  manners  had  lost  their  grace,  and 
his  heart  its  warmth.  In  this  solitude  he  for- 
got all  except  himself  and  his  lost  sovereign  ; 
even  a  nephew  whom  he  had  once  fondly  loved 
as  a  charming  and  engaging  child  was  no  longer 
remembered. 

The  Count's  sorrow  was  not  then  very  pro- 
found when  he  received  a  letter  sealed  with 
black,  announcing  this  nephew's  death,  and 
furthermore  containing  a  request  that  he  would 
adopt  the  nephew's  orphan  son.  This  was  a 
most  unexpected  and  unwelcome  proposition, 
for  since  the  Count  was  himself  a  boy,  no  child 
had  been  seen  in  the  castle,  nor  had  the  silence 
of  the  lonely  halls  been  broken  by  the  cheerful 
echoes  of  a  glad  young  voice. 

But  there  was  no  way  of  avoiding  this  ac- 
cession to  the  family.  A  few  weeks  passed, 
and  the  Count's  great  nephew,  Armand  Clair- 
ville,  then  thirteen  years  of  age,  arrived  at  the 


6 


THE  PAGE. 


castle.  The  bold,  active,  and  lively  boy  gazed 
in  astonishment  upon  his  cold,  stiff  uncle,  and 
the  grimness  of  all  surrounding  him  ;  the  very 
furniture  seemed  made  rather  to  repel  than  to 
invite ! 

Armand  soon  began  to  find  Clairville  Hall 
indescribably  dull  and  desolate  ;  he  made  va- 
rious excursions  into  the  neighborhood,  and 
quite  naturally  found  his  way  to  M.  de  Saint- 
Alme's  house. 

Let  us  accompany  him  thither  upon  one  of 
his  many  visits. 

The  clock  had  struck  two  in  the  afternoon, 
and  the  sun  shone  bright  and  warm  through 
the  thick  branches  of  the  beech  avenue,  as  Ar- 
mand hastened  down  its  almost  untrodden  side- 
walk with  rapid  steps  and  eager  glances. 

Armand  was  a  handsome  boy,  with  fine  fea- 
tures, a  noble  bearing,  and  easy,  pleasing  man- 
ners. Gayety  and  light-heartedness  shone  out 
from  the  dark  eyes,  which  were  nevertheless 
filled  with  intelligence  and  spirit,  while  the 
curling  upper  lip  of  the  finely  chiselled  mouth 
betrayed  the  fact  that  pride  and  self-will  were 
by  no  means  unknown  to  the  boy. 


BLANCHE   AND  ARMAND. 


7 


He  soon  reached  Saint- Alme's  house,  and 
stepped  lightly  into  the  flower-garden,  in  one 
corner  of  which  stood  an  arbor  covered  with 
the  crimson  blossoms  of  the  flowering  bean. 
He  hastened  thither. 

Under  the  blooming  vines  sat  a  little  girl  of 
about  twelve  years  old.  The  trellis,  with  its 
glowing  crimson  and  green  arabesques,  formed 
a  graceful  frame  in  which  was  set  the  love- 
ly image  of  the  child,  who,  with  her  sim- 
ple white  dress,  and  blonde  curls  confined 
by  a  blue  ribbon,  was  really  charming  to 
look  upon. 

She  did  not  perceive  Armand,  for  he  glided 
over  the  gravel  walk  with  noiseless  steps.  At 
length  he  stood  behind  her,  and,  laying  his 
hand  upon  her  eyes,  said  in  a  feigned  voice, 
with  a  great  effort  to  attain  an  unfathomable 
bass  :  "  Can  you  guess,  Miss  Saint- Alme, 
who  stands  behind  you  ?  " 

"  O  it  can  be  no  one  but  the  proud  lord  of 
Clairville  Hall ! "  cried  she.  "  That  will  do, 
Armand.  I  knew  you  at  once,  in  spite  of  your 
deep  voice." 

"  You  must  be  a  little  fairy,  Blanche,  or 


8 


THE  PAGE. 


you  never  could  have  guessed,"  laughed  Ar- 
mand. 

"  Hush  !  hush ! "  replied  Blanche,  warningly 
raising  her  forefinger,  "  you  must  not  speak  of 
fames  or  magic,  my  friend  ;  do  you  not  know 
that  even  under  King  Charles  the  Seventh,  all 
were  burned  alive  who  were  suspected  of  being 
witches  and  magicians  ?  " 

"  Yes,  but,  my  pretty  little  lady,  King  Louis 
the  Fourteenth,  a  very  wise  and  enlightened 
prince,  rules  the  land  in  these  days ;  and  be- 
sides, Blanche,  you  do  not  look  the  least  like 
a  witch." 

Blanche  cast  her  eyes  over  her  pretty  little 
figure,  and  then  turned  them  with  a  satisfied 
glance  towards  her  friend,  who  laughed  aloud 
as  he  followed  their  direction. 

"  Well,  really,  I  cannot  see  what  you  find  to 
laugh  at  so  incessantly,  Armand,"  said  the 
child,  feeling  somewhat  hurt  at  the  boy's  ex- 
aggerated gayety. 

"  I  only  laugh  for  joy  on  your  account,  and 
because  I  am  so  well  pleased  with  you  to-day  ; 
but  I  must  think  a  wreath  of  forget-me-nots 
would  be  much  more  becoming  than  that  faded 


BLANCHE   AND  ARMAND. 


9 


blue  ribbon.  Come,  let  us  go  to  the  meadow 
and  twine  a  garland  of  the  lovely  blue  star- 
flowers  ;  you  know  where  they  grow,  beside 
the  brook." 

Blanche  put  on  her  straw  hat  and  willingly 
followed.  The  children  soon  reached  the  brook, 
gathered  the  flowers,  and  seated  themselves  on 
the  grassy  bank  to  weave  them  into  garlands. 

"  Do  you  know,"  said  Blanche,  confidentially, 
"that  I  really  cannot  understand  how  you 
manage  to  live  up  there  at  the  castle ;  you 
must  surely  see  more  bats  and  owls  than  hu- 
man beings  ?  " 

"  You  are  quite  right,  Blanche,  and  I  often 
feel  dreadfully  melancholy  when  I  walk  up 
and  down  the  vast  halls,  with  all  the  portraits 
of  the  old  counts  and  knights  staring  down 
upon  me,  and  the  sound  of  my  own  footsteps 
echoing  hollowly  after  me  as  they  fall  upon 
the  stone  pavement  of  the  floors.  B-r-r-r !  —  I 
often  shudder  with  horror  when  I  hear  noth- 
ing but  the  screeching  of  owls ;  and  when  the 
harsh  croaking  of  the  chattering  daws  is  the 
only  reply  I  can  win  to  the  sound  of  my  own 
voice." 


10 


THE  PAGE. 


"  But  how  can  your  uncle  live  in  such  a 
desolate  place  ?  " 

"  O  very  well !  He  chose  it  of  his  own  free 
will.  My  father  often  told  me  how  Count 
Roger  was  once  as  lively  and  gay-hearted  as 
any  of  us;  but  after  King  Henry's  death  he 
suddenly  became  serious  and  melancholy,  and 
soon  after  chose  this  solitary  life." 

"  But  it  is  really  cruel  in  the  Count  to  suffer 
your  life  to  be  so  lonely  and  joyless,"  contin- 
ued Blanche.  "  He  adopted  you  of  his  own 
free  will,  and  he  ought  to  see  that  you  are 
happy." 

"  Not  quite  of  his  own  free  will,"  replied 
Armand,  seriously,  "  and  it  is  just  that  which 
troubles  me.  When  my  father  was  dying,  he 
begged  the  Count  to  adopt  me,  which  he  did, 
—  but  I  can  plainly  see  that  he  does  not  love 
me." 

"  Is  he  then  harsh  to  you,  my  good  Ar- 
mand ?  " 

64  O  no,  not  harsh !  but  he  cares  nothing  at 
all  about  me.  He  scarcely  replies  to  my  salu- 
tations when  we  meet,  he  never  laughs  with 
me,  and  I  am  never  expected  to  talk  where  he 


BLANCHE   AND  ARMAND. 


11 


is,  or  relate  to  him  any  of  my  little  adventures, 
or  the  feelings  which  every  one  who  is  young 
and  lively  must  desire  to  communicate.  And 
what  is  worse  than  all,  he  lets  me  learn  noth- 
ing, and  never  gives  me  a  friendly  look." 

"  Ah !  that  is  very  bad,  not  to  let  you  learn 
anything,"  replied  Blanche,  solemnly,  "for  I 
really  think  you  know  very  little !  " 

Armand  blushed,  and  said  in  a  low  tone : 
"  When  I  was  at  Brienne,  I  was  quite  an 
industrious  scholar ;  but  I  should  dearly  love 
to  ride,  fight,  and  dance  well,  and  of  those 
three  things  I  am  very  ignorant." 

"  You  would  like  to  be  a  soldier  then  ?  " 

Armand's  eyes  glistened  as  he  said,  in  an 
excited  tone  :  "  Ha !  when  I  even  think  of  it,  my 
heart  beats  with  joy  and  desire  !  O  Blanche, 
just  fancy  me  at  King  Louis's  court,  a  bold 
knight,  courageous  and  dauntless  as  his  Majes- 
ty himself!  Only  think  of  a  tournament  in 
honor  of  the  queen's  birthday;  the  ladies  in 
waving  plumes  and  dazzling  jewels  lean  over 
the  balcony  and  look  down  upon  the  noble 
lords  and  knights  who  are  about  to  combat  in 
their  honor !   O,  I  can  imagine  it  all  so  vividly  ! 


12 


THE  PAGE. 


I  can  see  you,  a  beautiful  lady  in  a  light  blue 
dress,  with  blue  ribbons  in  your  hair,  sitting 
on  the  balcony,  while  I  enter  the  lists  on  my 
black  Arabian  steed.  I  wear  your  colors, 
scarf  and  plume  of  heaven's  own  hue,  and 
stand  ready  to  combat  with  the  proudest 
knight  of  them  all!  The  strife  begins,  blow 
follows  blow;  the  struggle  is  hard,  but  the 
adversary  gives  way,  —  I  grow  more  impetu- 
ous, and  finally  see  him  fall.  I  spring  from 
my  steed,  and  while  the  clang  of  the  trumpets 
announces  my  victory,  I  loose  my  enemy's 
helmet  as  he  kneels  for  mercy  at  my  feet. 
Then  Blanche,  I  hasten  to  you,  I  humbly 
lower  my  lance,  and  you  crown  me  with  a 
laurel-wreath,  in  token  of  your  favor  and  my 
victory !  " 

Blanche  looked  half  bewildered  as  she  gazed 
upon  the  excited  countenance  of  the  enthusias- 
tic boy,  who  had  so  suddenly  admitted  her  into 
the  secrets  of  his  lofty  and  ambitious  dreams  ; 
but  when  he  ceased  to  speak,  she  sadly  shook 
her  head  and  said :  "  O  do  not  wish  to  be  at 
King  Louis's  court:  it  is  not  well  to  be  there  !" 

The  boy  looked  astonished. 


BLANCHE   AND  ARMAND. 


13 


"  You  see,"  she  continued,  in  a  mysterious 
and  confidential  manner,  "  we  were  very  un- 
happy in  Paris.  My  father  was  an  officer  in 
the  king's  life-guards,  and  he  and  mamma 
were  very  often  with  the  king  and  queen. 
But  they  had  one  bitter  enemy,  the  Marquis 
de  Maine,  who  slandered  my  father  to  his 
Majesty,  for  he  said  my  father  had  entered 
into  engagements  with  England  and  Holland 
prejudicial  to  King  Louis's  interests.  I  do  not 
understand  much  about  it,  but  I  do  know  that 
papa  lost  the  king's  favor,  and  was  forced  to 
leave  Paris  very  hastily.  Now  you  see,  Ar- 
mand, why  he  is  so  sad  and  quiet,  and  never 
seems  cheerful  and  merry,  although  mamma 
does  all  she  can  to  render  him  happy.  And 
for  that  reason  she  never  complains,  although 
forced  to  renounce,  within  the  little  rooms  and 
bare  walls  of  our  cottage,  all  that  she  was 
accustomed  to  see  around  her  in  Paris.  Ah! 
there  we  had  a  beautiful  palace,  with  splen- 
did halls  hung  with  embroidered  tapestry !  O, 
everything  was  so  magnificent!" 

"  Poor  Blanche !  and  now  you  must  give 
it  all  up ! "  cried  Armand,  sympathizingly. 


14 


THE  PAGE. 


"  O,  I  do  not  care  much,  for  the  narrow 
streets  in  Paris  do  not  please  me  half  so 
well  as  these  meadows  and  our  flower-garden. 
Indeed,  I  would  much  prefer  remaining  here, 
if  my  father's  reputation  were  only  vindicated ; 
for  I  heard  him  say  very  lately,  '  Believe  me, 
Margery,'  —  that  is  what  he  calls  mamma,  — 
'  I  would  willingly  renounce  honor,  glory,  and 
wealth,  if  my  king  were  only  convinced  of  my 
innocence  ;  but  that  he,  my  benefactor,  must 
think  me  false  and  ungrateful,  is  to  me  a  cause 
of  the  most  poignant  and  incurable  sorrow.' " 

"  But  why  did  the  Marquis  de  Maine  slan- 
der your  father?" 

"  I  do  not  understand  that  precisely,  but  I 
think  it  was  somehow  this  way :  King  Louis 
had  made  an  agreement  with  the  Netherlands, 
of  which  King  Charles  of  England  was  to 
know  nothing ;  but  it  suddenly  came  out  that 
some  one  had  betrayed  his  Majesty's  plans  to 
the  English  king,  and  my  father  was  accused 
of  having  been  the  traitor.  Only  a  few  days 
since,  I  heard  papa  say,  '  I  believe  that  De 
Maine  was  the  real  traitor,  and  that  he  ac- 
cused me  in  order  to  screen  himself.' " 


BLANCHE   AND  ARMAND. 


15 


"But  your  father  can  prove  that  to  the 
king!"  cried  Armand,  eagerly. 

"  What  are  you  dreaming  of  ?  It  is  only 
a  suspicion ;  he  has  no  proofs,  and  the  Marquis 
de  Maine  is  too  cunning  to  be  found  off  his 
guard." 

"  Ah,  good  Blanche,  that  is  very  sad ! " 

"  You  see  now  how  it  is  at  court,  and  you 
should  not  wish  to  be  there." 

"  Do  not  be  vexed  with  me,  but  indeed  I 
cannot  help  longing  to  go.  O  how  glorious 
Paris  must  be ! " 

"  Were  you  never  there,  Armand  ?  " 

"  Only  once,  during  a  few  days.  A  distant 
relative  of  my  dear  mother  lives  quite  near 
the  Louvre.  O  how  charming  it  was  to  look 
out  of  the  windows  and  see  the  fine  knights 
and  ladies!  But  although  I  am  a  baron's 
son,  I  could  never  be  presented  to  the  king, 
because  I  am  poor  and  friendless  ;  and  Count 
Roger  will  surely  never  think  of  taking  me 
to  Paris :  he  will  let  me  live  and  die  in  this 
desert ! " 

"  And  do  you  feel  very  unhappy  here,  my 
poor  Armand  ?  " 


16 


THE  PAGE. 


"  Were  it  not  for  you,  I  should  have  run 
away  long  ago.  I  tell  you  that  openly,  for 
my  cousin,  though  he  is  only  a  poor  official, 
and  has  no  fortune,  is  very  kind  and  friendly 
towards  me ;  and  I  am  quite  sure  that,  if 
I  were  with  him,  I  should  never  die  with 
ennui! " 

"  O  look,  Armand,  what  a  strange  caval- 
cade !"  suddenly  cried  Blanche,  fairly  clap- 
ping her  hands  with  delight. 

Armand's  eyes  followed  the  direction  point- 
ed out  to  him  by  Blanche.  Quite  near  him, 
on  the  meadow-road,  pranced  a  snow-white 
steed,  on  whose  green-velvet  saddle  sat  a 
beautiful  lady.  A  dark,  richly  embroidered 
riding-habit  hung  nearly  to  the  ground,  and 
on  the  lady's  slender  hand  sat  a  falcon,  with 
piercing  eyes  and  feathered  top-knot.  At  her 
left,  only  a  few  steps  behind,  followed  two 
other  ladies ;  the  one,  a  youthful  maiden  with 
a  beaming  countenance  and  beautiful  black 
hair,  the  other  a  much  older  woman,  and  far 
less  lovely  and  attractive.  Several  cavaliers, 
with  richly  caparisoned  steeds,  closed  the  pro- 
cession. 


BLANCHE   AND  ARMAND. 


17 


The  lady  who  rode  the  white  horse,  and 
who  was  unmistakably  the  superior  in  rank, 
gazed  a  moment  inquiringly  upon  the  chil- 
dren's faces,  and  then  said,  smiling :  "  Can  you 
tell  us  how  we  may  the  most  readily  regain 
the  main  road  to  Paris  ?  We  have  lost  our 
way  during  the  chase,  and  desire  to  reach  the 
city  before  evening." 

Armand  reverentially  lifted  his  velvet  cap, 
and  replied :  "  You  will  find  no  difficulty  in 
so  doing,  noble  lady  ;  for  if  you  turn  to  the 
right  of  this  ridge,  you  will  reach  the  main 
road  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour." 

"  What  are  your  names,  my  children  ?  " 

Armand  saw,  from  his  little  friend's  evident 
embarrassment,  that  she  had  no  desire  to  tell 
her  name,  and  he  was  sufficiently  adroit  to 
turn  the  question  upon  himself  alone,  by  reply- 
ing at  once :  "  My  name  is  Armand  de  Clair- 
ville.  noble  lady." 

*  Clairville  ?  "  The  lady  seemed  to  be  seek- 
ing some  lost  remembrance ;  the  name  was 
familiar  to  her,  but  she  could  not  recall  when 
and  in  what  connection  she  had  heard  it. 

She  turned  an  inquiring  glance  upon  her 
2 


18 


THE  PAGE. 


young  companion,  who  immediately  replied, 
in  a  cheerful  tone :  "  Ah,  Madame !  Count 
Roger  de  Clairville  is  the  name  of  the  strange 
hermit  who  preferred  a  self-inflicted  banish- 
ment, passed  in  mourning  and  lamentations 
over  our  late  blessed  King  Henry,  to  taking 
service  under  his  glorious  son  and  grand- 
son." 

"  Ah  yes !  you  are  right,  Mademoiselle  Lu- 
cile.  I  remember  now  the  strange  tales  I  have 
heard  of  this  eccentric  Count ;  but  he  must  be 
a  very  old  man,  this  same  Roger  Clairville  ?  " 

"  Nearly  seventy  years  old,  Madame,"  was 
Arm  and' s  answer. 

"  But  how  came  the  old  hermit  to  plant 
you,  the  fresh  young  vine,  in  his  desolate, 
cloistral  garden  ?  "  asked  the  lady,  graciously. 
"  Do  you  share  Count  Roger's  solitude  will- 
ingly ?  " 

Armand  gazed  a  moment  upon  the  beau- 
tiful, kind  face  bent  down  towards  him,  and 
then  replied,  in  a  low  tone :  "  O,  the  young 
vine  often  longs  to  quit  the  melancholy  shad- 
ows of  the  cloistral  garden,  and  wander  forth 
beneath  the  free,  warm  rays  of  the  blessed 
sun ! " 


BLANCHE  AND  ARMAND. 


19 


The  lady  smiled  at  the  boy's  frank  confi- 
dence, and  continued,  "  And  where,  then,  think 
you  to  find  the  sun  of  your  good  fortune  ?  " 

"  In  Paris  !  only  in  Paris ! "  was  the  immedi- 
ate reply. 

"  Ah,  boy !  that  is  merely  a  delusion  of 
your  childish  fancy,"  returned  the  lady  seri- 
ously. She  paused  a  moment,  and  then  con- 
tinued :  "  Nevertheless,  you  may  be  right ;  and 
when  you  are  older  and  taller,  if  you  still  long 
to  be  at  King  Louis's  court,  I  will  myself  be 
your  advocate.  You  have  only  to  ask  at  the 
Louvre  for  Madame  Henriette  d'Orleans."* 

Armand's  eyes  glistened  as  he  bowed  low 
before  the  kind  lady,  who  smiled  as  she  bade 
him  farewell,  and  then  hastened  away  with 
her  companions  towards  the  main  road. 

Some  time  elapsed  before  the  excited  boy 
could  recover  from   his   astonishment,  and 

*  Henrietta  of  Orleans  was  the  daughter  of  King  Charles 
the  First  of  England,  and  the  wife  of  Philip  of  Orleans,  King 
Louis  the  Fourteenth's  brother.  She  was  no  less  celebrated  for 
her  lofty  spirit  and  keen  intellect,  than  for  her  beauty  and  amia- 
bility. She  plays  no  insignificant  part  in  the  history  of  France, 
as  King  Louis  frequently  consulted  her,  and  relied  much  upon 
her  judgment. 


20 


THE  PAGE. 


when  he  at  length  turned  to  look  for  Blanche, 
he  found  her  striving  to  conceal  herself  behind 
a  blooming  elder-bush. 

"  O  Blanche,  come  out,  and  do  not  be 
afraid ;  no  one  learned  your  name." 

"  That  is  true,  but  I  was  nevertheless  recog- 
nized. Miss  Lucile  de  Raimond  looked  at 
me  a  long  time ;  I  do  not  care  for  that,  be- 
€ause  she  is  kind  and  good,  but  the  Marchion- 
ess knew  me  too." 

"  The  Marchioness  ?    What  Marchioness  ?  " 

"  O  heaven !  the  proud  old  lady  who  looked 
at  us  so  sharply  and  searchingly  was  the 
Marchioness  de  Maine,  the  wife  of  my  fa- 
ther's wicked  enemy ! " 

Armand  looked  at  the  child  with  an  ex- 
pression of  doubt. 

"  O,  believe  me,  it  was  she ! "  continued 
Blanche,  half  weeping ;  "  I  know  the  Marchion- 
ess's proud  look  too  well,  and  even  when  we 
were  in  Paris  she  was  one  of  Madame  Henri- 
ette's  *  ladies  of  honor." 

*  We  must  here  observe,  that  in  France  the  king's  sister-in- 
law,  that  is,  the  wife  of  his  eldest  brother,  was  always  called 
Madame  of  France,  or  simply  Madame,  while  the  princess 
royal  bore  the  title  of  Mademoiselle  of  France. 


BLANCHE   AND  ARMAND. 


21 


"  And  Madame  Henriette,  did  you  know  her 
too  ?  "  continued  Armand,  with  beaming  looks. 

"  I  often  heard  her  spoken  of,  and  mamma 
always  said  she  was  goodness  and  loveliness 
personified." 

"  Come  now,  be  consoled,  my  dear,  sweet 
Blanche ;  only  have  patience  for  a  few  years, 
and  then  I  will  go  to  Paris,  remind  Madame 
of  her  promise,  and  when  I  have  risen  a  little 
way  into  King  Louis's  favor,  I  will  soon  con- 
vince him  of  your  father's  innocence.  The 
king  is  just  and  gracious.  You  will  all  return 
to  court;  we  shall  meet  again,  and  will  lead 
a  charming  life  ! " 

Thus  spake  the  inexperienced  boy  in  his  joy- 
ous enthusiasm,  as  he  strove  to  dry  the  tears 
still  flowing  down  his  little  friend's  cheeks. 
The  latter  did  not  seem  to  place  much  confi- 
dence in  Armand's  future  efforts,  and,  shaking 
her  head,  said  beseechingly :  "  O,  do  not  wish 
to  go  to  Paris ;  even  the  Princess  thought 
that  my  longing,  and  your  desire  for  the 
capital,  were  only  childish  fancies.  O  stay 
here,  where  you  can  meet  with  no  misfor- 
tune ! " 


22 


THE  PAGE. 


"  Do  not  let  it  trouble  you,  dear !  we  have 
not  come  to  that  yet.  Years  must  pass  before 
the  Princess  will  be  willing  to  present  me  to 
the  king,  and  you  must  see  yourself,  dear 
Blanche,  that  I  cannot  live  for-  ever  at  that 
melancholy  Clairville  Hall." 

Blanche  silently  untwisted  the  wreath  of 
forget-me-nots,  and  Armand's  thoughts  were 
also  very  far  from  the  pleasure  which  the  lovely 
blossoms  had  shortly  before  promised  him. 

"  But  look,  see !  what  letter  is  this  lying  on 
the  grass  ?    Can  the  Princess  have  lost  it  ?  " 

So  saying,  Armand  lifted  a  curiously  folded, 
delicately  tinted  paper  from  the  very  spot  where 
the  beautiful  rider  had  halted.  Blanche  ap- 
proached, and,  opening  the  proffered  sheet,  said 
quietly :  "  It  seems  so,  for  the  writing  is  Eng- 
lish, and  Madame  is  an  English  princess." 

Armand  searched  in  vain  for  the  address  ; 
none  could  be  found ;  and  as  he  was  too  dis- 
creet to  seek  the  owner  through  the  contents, 
he  looked  completely  undecided  as  to  what  he 
had  better  do  with  his  newly  found  treasure. 

"  Look  at  the  name  of  the  writer,  Armand," 
counselled  Blanche. 


BLANCHE  AND  ARMAND. 


23 


The  boy  turned  the  fine,  scented  paper  round, 
and  saw  in  one  corner  of  the  last  page  the  sim- 
ple name,  "  Charles  Nestling." 

"  O,  that  must  be  from  Madame's  brother, 
King  Charles  Stuart  of  England  !  "  cried 
Blanche,  eagerly. 

"  The  letter  must  then  be  very  valuable,  and 
I  will  hasten  and  take  it  to  her  !  "  said  Armand 
joyfully. 

«  You  ?  " 

"  Certainly ! " 

"  But  how  can  you  go  to  Paris  ?  " 

"  O,  that  will  be  very  easy.  Count  Roger 
will  not  prevent  me  when  he  learns  why  I 
wish  to  go." 

"  Yes,  but  how  will  you  get  there  ?  " 

"  No  difficulty  in  that,  my  dear,  good  Blanche. 
I  can  ride,  and  if  necessary  I  will  go  on  foot ; 
the  distance  to  Paris  is  very  short ! " 

"But  you  will  not  be  received  at  the  court." 

"  I  have  the  Princess's  word." 

"  No  one  will  believe  you." 

Armand  turned  hastily  round. 

"  Do  I  then  look  like  a  liar  ?  O  Blanche,  do 
not  oppose  me  any  longer,  but  let  me  go ;  it 


24 


THE  PAGE. 


may  be  God's  will  that  I  can  very  soon  do 
something  for  your  father." 

She  gave  him  her  hand  in  the  most  friendly 
manner,  and  both  returned  to  the  cottage  in 
silence.  At  the  garden  gate,  the  two  children 
bade  each  other  a  solemn  farewell ;  Armand 
then  flew  up  the  beech  avenue,  and  soon  ar- 
rived, heated  anxl  breathless,  at  the  castle. 

The  quiet  of  the  grave  reigned  there,  as 
usual.  The  Count's  three  old  servants,  Ger- 
main, Baptist,  and  Francis,  stood  in  the  ante- 
chamber, with  stiffly  frizzed  wigs,  silk  stock- 
ings, and  knee-buckles.  Their  steps  were  light, 
their  voices  faint,  and  every  word  and  gesture 
which  they  exchanged  with  one  another,  most 
carefully  considered. 

So  much  the  more  stormy  seemed  Armand's 
entrance.  He  rushed  up  to  the  three  stiff  fig- 
ures, and  cried,  with  glowing  cheeks  and  im- 
ploring gestures  :  "  Germain,  now  be  a  good 
old  man,  and  announce  me  to  my  uncle ! " 

The  three  faces  lengthened  with  amazement, 
and  Germain  replied  in  a  whisper :  "  Count 
Roger  de  Clair ville  is  taking  his  afternoon 
nap,  and  cannot  be  disturbed." 


BLANCHE  AND  ARMAND. 


25 


"  Yes,  but  it  concerns  things  of  the  highest 
importance ! " 

The  three  silently  shrugged  their  shoulders. 

"  I  will  not  disturb  the  Count  long,"  con- 
tinued Armand,  beseechingly  ;  "  you  go,  Bap- 
tist, and  announce  me." 

Baptist  shook  his  head,  while  Francis  placed 
himself  as  if  keeping  guard  before  the  door  of 
the  Count's  room,  and  stretched  out  both  his 
long  arms  like  a  sign-post. 

The  impatient  boy  begged  and  implored,  but 
the  three  could  not  be  induced  to  infringe  in 
the  least  degree  upon  any  command  issued  by 
the  Count,  and  kept  even  a  closer  watch  over 
their  master's  chamber,  than  old  Cerberus  over 
his  charge  in  the  nether  world. 

After  Armand  had  impatiently  walked  sev- 
eral dozen  times  up  and  down  before  the  my- 
thological figures  which  seemed  to  be  planted 
in  the  floor,  and  had  exhausted  all  his  prayers 
and  threats,  he  finally  hurried  down  into  the 
court-yard. 

"  Come,  come,  Mr.  Armand,  what  has  ex- 
cited you  so  ?  "  suddenly  cried  a  voice  behind 
him. 


26 


THE  PAGE. 


The  boy  turned,  and  beheld  the  only  youth- 
ful being,  except  himself,  dwelling  within  the 
precincts  of  the  castle. 

This  was  a  powerful,  broad-shouldered  lad, 
with  an  open  and  upright  countenance ;  he 
was  intrusted  with  the  care  of  the  Count's 
dilapidated  stables,  and  performed  the  part  of 
groom. 

A  new  ray  of  hope  shone  in  Armand's  soul. 

"  Why  should  I  trouble  myself  any  longer 
with  those  stiff  old  mummies  inside  ?  "  cried 
he.  "  You,  John,  you  can  help  me,  and  you 
alone ! " 

"  How  so,  sir  ?  " 

u  Tell  me,  is  there  not  one  among  the  horses 
which  can  travel  the  short  distance  from  here 
to  Paris  ?  " 

John  smiled  as  he  replied :  "  O  yes,  there  is 
Nestor;  he  is  not  overly  young,  but  he  has 
some  strength  left  yet,  and  he  was  once  a  fine 
horse." 

"  Saddle  him  for  me,  quick." 
"  Are  you  going  to  Paris,  sir  ?  " 
"  Yes,  yes ;  but  do  not  delay." 
John  looked  embarrassed,  and  twisted  his 
cap  in  his  hands. 


BLANCHE  AND  ARMAND. 


27 


Armand  divined  the  cause  of  his  hesitation, 
and  said  quickly :  "  Only  do  it ;  I  will  be  re- 
sponsible." 

John  made  no  farther  objections,  and  Nestor 
soon  stood  fairly  saddled  and  bridled  before 
the  excited  boy.  Nestor,  as  far  as  age  was 
concerned,  did  all  possible  honor  to  his  cele- 
brated Greek  namesake  ;  the  saddle  and  bridle 
were  also  antiquated,  and  very  dingy.  It  was 
by  no  means  astonishing  that  fashion  and  bril- 
liancy had  both  left  them,  as  they  had  been 
wont  to  shine  long  before,  in  the  days  of  King 
Henry. 

Armand  sprang  into  the  saddle,  trotted  as 
swiftly  as  possible  out  of  the  court-yard,  and 
displayed  not  a  few  airs  and  graces  when,  a 
few  moments  later,  he  rode  past  Blanche's 
window  and  bowed  a  joyful  greeting,  which 
she  returned  rather  more  seriously  than  was 
pleasing  to  him. 


CHAPTER  II. 

ARMAND  AT   THE  LOUVRE. 

In  one  of  the  little  rooms  of  his  modest 
dwelling  near  the  Louvre  sat  Mr.  Emilius 
Bernard,  apparently  seeking  some  reference  of 
great  importance  in  the  great  law-books  by 
which  he  was  surrounded.  The  young  man's 
cheerful,  even  joyous  mien,  presented  a  strik- 
ing contrast  to  the  image  usually  conceived  of 
a  French  lawyer.  Emilius  was  in  fact  a  mere 
beginner ;  he  had  but  little  practice,  was  little 
known,  and,  above  all,  had  very  little  money. 

His  rooms  were  miserably  furnished ;  the  only 
ornamental  articles  being  a  few  engravings 
hanging  upon  the  walls,  unless,  indeed,  a  hand- 
some guitar,  with  a  broad  band  of  green  rib- 
bon, might  be  included  in  the  same  category. 

Mr.  Emilius  Bernard  was  a  distant  relative 
of  Armand  Clairville's  mother,  and  the  boy 


ARMAND  AT   THE  LOUVRE. 


29 


had  once  before  visited  him,  as  he  passed 
through  Paris  on  his  way  to  Clairville  Hall. 

Armand  had  left  his  cousin  very  unwilling- 
ly, for  he  had  found  under  the  gay  young 
man's  roof  all  that  he  had  sought  in  vain 
at  Clairville  Hall,  —  kindness  and  affection. 

Twilight  had  nearly  darkened  into  night, 
when  the  young  lawyer  laid  down  his  books 
and  stepped  to  the  little  window. 

"  Zounds  ! "  cried  he  suddenly,  aloud,  "  who 
is  that  galloping  down  the  street  ?  Can  it  be 
my  handsome  little  cousin  ?  " 

The  next  moment  showed  that  he  was  not 
mistaken,  for  the  stately  Nestor,  after  sundry 
most  remarkable  leaps  and  bounds,  finally 
stopped  before  his  door,  and  Armand,  spring- 
ing from  his  steed,  cried  out  to  Bernard,  who 
had  hastened  to  meet  him,  "  Have  you  any 
entertainment  for  my  horse,  cousin  ?  " 

"  Certainly ;  lead  the  old  fellow  this  way, 
Armand,  and  you  will  find  a  comfortable  shel- 
ter for  him  in  the  yard." 

Nestor's  wants  were  very  modest,  and  were 
consequently  soon  satisfied. 

"  But,  my  dear  little  cousin,  what  brings 


30 


THE  PAGE. 


you  so  unexpectedly  to  Paris  ? "  asked  Ber- 
nard, tenderly  pressing  the  boy's  hand. 

"  Affairs  of  the  utmost  importance ;  but  send 
your  servant  at  once  to  brush  the  dust  from 
my  hair  and  clothes.  I  must  go  without  delay 
to  the  Louvre  ! 99 

"  You  to  the  Louvre  ? "  cried  the  lawyer, 
astounded. 

"  Certainly,  my  friend ;  I  must  hasten  and 
set  Madame  Henriette's  mind  at  rest  as  soon 
as  possible ! " 

"  The  Princess  Henriette  ?  " 

"  Assuredly ! " 

Bernard  laughed  so  heartily  at  the  boy's 
important  and  mysterious  air,  that  Armand 
finally  concluded  to  tell  him  the  cause  of  his 
sudden  journey. 

Bernard  listened  attentively,  and,  as  the  boy 
ended,  gave  him  a  friendly  clap  on  the  shoul- 
der, saying: 

"If  I  am  not  mistaken,  your  fortune  is 
made,  for  Madame  Henrietta  loves  such  little 
adventures.  But  you  must  act  prudently.  In 
the  first  place,  you  must  wait  until  the  morn- 
ing, for  you  cannot  with  propriety  ask  an 


ARMAND  AT   THE  LOUVRE. 


31 


audience  before ;  and  also,  your  simple  and 
dusty  clothes  are  ill  suited  to  the  halls  of  the 
Louvre." 

Armand  looked  somewhat  abashed  and  dis- 
heartened, but  Bernard  continued,  consolingly : 

"  Leave  all  to  me ;  a  furnishing-house  near 
by  will  supply  us  with  a  handsome  suit  adapt- 
ed to  your  neat  little  figure  ;  you  may  then 
confidently  betake  yourself  to  the  palace,  and 
I  have  no  doubt  of  the  propriety  of  your  be- 
havior, or  of  your  success,  when  once  there." 

Armand  acquiesced,  thankfully  partook  of 
the  refreshing  supper  which  Bernard  prepared 
for  him,  and  then,  after  his  long  and  tiresome 
ride,  slept  soundly  and  sweetly  under  his  cous- 
in's friendly  roof.  The  latter  heard  him  whis- 
per during  his  sleep,  the  names  of  "  King  Louis, 
Blanche,  and  Henriette."  His  dreams  were 
surely  of  the  Louvre. 

The  next  morning  Armand  stood  with  a  de- 
lighted air  before  Bernard's  large  mirror,  while 
the  good-natured  cousin  patiently  smoothed 
and  arranged  the  fine  lace  ruffles  encircling  the 
boy's  wrists. 


32  THE  PAGE. 

Armand  wore  snow-white  stockings,  and 
handsome  shoes  with  buckles  and  rosettes. 
The  short  purple  velvet  breeches,  and  the 
waistcoat  of  the  same  color  and  material, 
were  both  trimmed  with  silver  lace.  A  short 
mantle  of  white  cashmere  was  fastened  upon 
one  shoulder  and  across  the  breast,  with  rich 
silver  cords  and  tassels.  His  dark  hair  was 
carefully  arranged  in  thick  curls,  and  in  his 
hand  he  held  a  little  cap  with  a  long  ostrich 
plume. 

"  Heavens  !  how  handsome  you  are,  Ar- 
mand !  "  cried  Bernard,  joyously.  "  You  are 
wonderfully  like  your  mother ! " 

A  tear  glistened  in  the  boy's  eyes ;  he  so 
longed  this  morning  for  a  blessing  from  his 
mother,  before  he  set  out  on  a  visit  which  he 
felt  might  influence  the  whole  course  of  his 
life. 

"  Keep  up  your  heart,  my  boy,  and  God  be 
with  you ! "  said  Bernard,  as  he  led  him  to  the 
door. 

The  sun  was  not  shining  without  so  brightly 
as  it  had  done  the  day  before  ;  the  dirty,  mud- 
dy streets  gave  sufficient  evidence  of  the  rain- 


ARMAND  AT   THE  LOUVRE. 


33 


storm  which  had  visited  the  city  during  the 
night. 

Armand  carefully  made  his  way  over  the 
half-dried  stones,  and  managed  so  adroitly 
that  he  finally  arrived  at  the  entrance  to  the 
Louvre  with  his  handsome  slippers  as  neat  as 
when  he  left  his  cousin's  house. 

Before  he  entered,  his  glance  fell  upon  a 
low  balcony,  on  whose  balustrade  leaned  sev- 
eral prettily  dressed  ladies,  who  appeared  to  be 
observing  him  attentively. 

He  looked  again,  and  felt  quite  sure  that 
one  of  the  ladies,  who  smiled  as  her  eye  met 
his,  was  the  kind-hearted  Lucile  de  Raimond. 

Armand's  hand  was  upon  his  cap,  but  ere  he 
could  make  his  salutation,  a  splendid  equipage 
rolled  rapidly  past  him.  The  mud  splashed 
high  over  the  wheels,  and  before  Armand  could 
think  of  protecting  himself,  a  horrible  mass  of 
black  mud  had  covered  his  white-silk  stock- 
ings and  the  bright  borders  of  his  pretty  trou- 
sers ;  even  his  white  cashmere  mantle  was  all 
spotted  with  great  black  splotches. 

The  boy  reddened  with  shame  and  mortifi- 
cation, cast  a  despairing  glance  over  his  ruined 

3 


34 


THE  PAGE. 


toilet,  with  difficulty  repressed  his  rising  tears, 
and  then  looked  up  shyly  towards  the  balcony, 
—  it  was  empty. 

The  gay  equipage  which  had  thus  suddenly 
precipitated  Armand  from  the  opening  heaven 
of  his  dreams,  stopped  at  the  Louvre  ;  an  el- 
derly gentleman,  with  strongly  marked,  unpre- 
possessing features,  descended  from  it,  and 
entered  the  palace. 

Armand  slunk  sadly  homewards. 

Bernard  could  offer  but  meagre  consolation, 
for  his  little  treasury  was  so  exhausted,  that  he 
could  not  even  think  of  replacing  the  ruined 
articles.    What  was  to  be  done  ? 

The  two  had  discussed  this  knotty  question 
for  more  than  an  hour  without  arriving  at 
any  satisfactory  conclusion,  when  suddenly  a 
strange  servant  in  livery  entered,  and  asked 
whether  "  Mr.  de  Clairville  "  was  staying 
there.  As  Armand  replied  in  the  affirmative, 
the  man  placed  a  package  in  his  hands  and 
disappeared. 

Armand  looked  inquiringly  towards  his 
cousin,  who  merely  shrugged  his  shoulders, 
and  proceeded  to  loosen  the  string  bound 
round  the  package. 


ARMAND  AT  THE  LOUVRE. 


35 


A  beautiful  suit  of  light-blue  silk  soon  lay 
unfolded  before  the  astonished  eyes  of  the  two 
young  people. 

"  Now  you  see,  my  boy,  some  friend  has 
taken  pity  on  you!" 

"  But  I  have  no  friend  except  you,  dear 
Emilius." 

"  Then  it  must  have  been  a  fairy,"  said  the 
other,  laughing.  "  But  no  matter  for  that  now ; 
dress  yourself  as  quickly  as  you  can,  and  you 
will  still  have  time  once  more  to  try  your 
fortune." 

The  clothes  fitted  as  if  they  had  been  pur- 
posely made  for  Armand,  and  he  soon  stood, 
handsomer  than  ever,  before  his  astonished 
cousin. 

This  time  he  reached  the  palace  without 
any  accidents,  and  was  surprised  at  the  alac- 
rity with  which  a  richly  attired  valet  led  him 
up  the  broad  marble  staircase. 

They  finally  stopped  in  a  long,  vaulted  hall, 
with  lofty  windows  and  white  marble  pillars. 
The  valet  bade  him  wait  there,  and  entered  a 
side-door. 

Armand's  heart  beat  loudly,  his  rapid  pulse 


36 


THE  PAGE. 


was  almost  visible,  and  his  agitation  was  still 
increasing,  when  the  folding  doors  flew  open. 

Armand  gazed  in  breathless  expectation ;  a 
lady  and  gentleman  advanced  towards  him ; 
could  it  be  Henrietta  of  France  herself?  But 
no;  —  before  Armand  stood  the  Marchioness 
de  Maine,  with  her  freezing  glance,  and  at 
her  side  walked  the  gentleman  whose  car- 
riage-wheels had  irretrievably  ruined  his  fine 
clothes. 

The  boy  bowed  slightly;  the  lady  passed 
proudly  on,  without  noticing  his  salutation, 
and  accompanied  the  gentleman  to  the  en- 
trance of  the  hall.  Ere  she  returned,  the  valet 
again  appeared  at  the  side-door,  and  beckoned 
Armand  to  follow  him. 

Within  opened  a  large,  handsome  room, 
with  embroidered  tapestry  and  fleecy  carpet. 
In  the  centre  of  the  chamber  stood  a  young 
girl,  who  hastened  to  meet  Armand.  It  was 
Lucile  de  E,aimond,  who  smiled  as  she  said : 
"  Do  you  wish  to  speak  with  Madame  Henri- 
ette ?  " 

"  Such  is  my  most  earnest  desire." 

"You  are  speedy  in  gratifying  your  longing 


ARMAND  AT   THE  LOUVRE. 


37 


to  visit  the  court  and  Madame ;  we  did  not 
think  to  have  seen  you  yet  for  several  years." 

"  And  I  should  certainly  not  have  ventured 
so  soon  to  trespass  upon  her  Royal  Highness's 
favor,  had  I  not  yesterday  found  this  letter, 
which  I  am  quite  sure  must  have  been  lost 
by  Madame." 

"  O,  how  rejoiced  the  Princess  will  be ! " 
cried  Lucile ;  "  it  is  a  letter  from  her  royal 
brother  of  England,  which  she  would  have 
been  deeply  grieved  to  have  lost ;  I  will  go  at 
once  and  announce  you." 

After  a  few  moments  the  young  lady  re- 
turned, and  led  the  astonished  boy  through  a 
suit  of  apartments  far  surpassing  in  splendor 
and  magnificence  all  his  most  brilliant  dreams. 

At  the  end  of  this  gorgeous  array  of  rooms 
and  halls,  Lucile  raised  a  rich  green  damask 
curtain  from  a  side  entrance,  and  —  Armand 
stood  before  the  Princess  ! 

The  room  into  which  Armand  now  entered 
was  small,  but  most  charmingly  furnished  and 
decorated.  The  painted  walls  glittered  with 
foreign  birds  and  flowers ;  parrots  and  birds 
of  paradise  were  gracefully  poised  upon  long 


38 


THE  PAGE. 


slender  stems  of  gorgeous  flowers,  and  all  were 
so  naturally  delineated  upon  the  white  satin 
ground  that  every  one  must  at  first  be  tempted 
to  deem  them  real.  Chandeliers  and  side- 
lights were  hung  from  the  ceiling  and  the 
walls,  and  a  costly  Turkey  carpet  repeated 
upon  the  floor  the  wonderful  birds  and  flowers 
on  the  tapestry.  In  the  middle  of  the  apart- 
ment stood  a  sofa  of  white  satin,  on  which 
sat  Henrietta  of  Orleans,  with  a  richly  gilded 
harp  at  her  side. 

Armand  stood  at  the  entrance,  speechless 
and  immovable ;  the  Princess  smiled,  and 
beckoned  him  to  approach. 

The  light  waving  of  her  hand  aroused  him 
from  his  stupor ;  the  next  moment  he  knelt 
reverentially  before  the  noble  lady,  and  pre- 
sented her  with  the  letter  carefully  wrapped  in 
satin  paper. 

The  Princess  hastily  grasped  the  little  pack- 
age, unfolded  the  letter,  and  then  said  joyfully: 
"  You  have  done  me  a  great  service,  greater 
perhaps  than  yon  are  aware  of;  this  letter 
from  my  royal  brother  deserves  a  better  fate 
than  to  be  forgotten  and  destroyed  on  the 
meadows  of  Clairville  Hall." 


ARMAND   AT   THE  LOUVRE. 


39 


Armand,  although  generally  so  prompt  and 
self-possessed,  could  not  as  yet  command  a 
single  word ;  but  when  Lucile,  in  accordance 
with  her  mistress's  command,  had  placed  the 
letter  in  a  beautifully  ornamented  portfolio, 
and  the  latter  turned  an  inquiring  glance  upon 
him,  his  good  understanding  and  fine  tact 
taught  him  how  to  win  the  favor  of  the 
Princess. 

Henrietta  of  Orleans  was  celebrated  for  a 
courteous  affability,  and  a  considerate  gentle- 
ness, which  won  all  hearts.  Through  her  fa- 
thers unhappy  end  she  had  early  in  life  be- 
come acquainted  with  its  most  bitter  reverses, 
and  in  the  midst  of  splendor  and  elevation 
never  forgot  to  turn  a  willing  ear  to  the  hum- 
blest petitioner. 

The  bold  and  ardent  but  intelligent  boy  ex- 
cited her  interest ;  she  laughed  as  she  listened 
to  his  account  of  the  monotonous  life  at  Clair- 
ville  Hall,  and  although  Armand  touched  as 
lightly  as  possible  upon  his  uncle's  peculiari- 
ties, the  benevolent  lady  could  not  but  see 
that  such  a  mode  of  existence  must  be  unen- 
durable to  the  high-spirited  boy. 


40 


THE  PAGE. 


Lucile  de  Raimond  aided  the  boy  in  his 
candid  account  of  himself  by  sundry  friendly 
nods  and  smiles,  for  she  was  as  yet  herself 
half  a  child,  kind,  ingenuous,  and  joyous. 

While  Armand  with  glowing  cheeks  and 
glistening  eyes  still  stood  before  the  Princess, 
the  Marchioness  de  Maine,  who  filled  the  post 
of  mistress  of  ceremonies,  suddenly  entered, 
and,  bowing  deeply,  announced,  "  His  Majes- 
ty, King  Louis ! " 

Henrietta  rose,  and  quickly  approached  the 
entrance ;  the  heavy  curtains  parted,  and 
Louis  the  Fourteenth  stood  upon  the  thresh- 
old. 

The  youthful  monarch  possessed  a  dazzling 
and  surprising  beauty,  and  his  whole  bearing 
was  faultless  ;  every  gesture  bore  the  stamp 
of  knightly  gallantry. 

Armand  scarcely  breathed;  to  be  so  near 
his  venerated  King!  —  that  was  a  happiness 
he  had  not  even  ventured  to  imagine. 

King  Louis's  glittering  eye  rested  a  moment 
upon  the  boy,  and  then,  hastening  to  greet  his 
sister-in-law,  he  gallantly  kissed  her  hand,  and 
said,  "  I  did  not  know  that  Madame  was  still, 
at  this  hour,  giving  audience." 


ARMAND  AT  THE  LOUVRE. 


41 


"  The  hour  was  over  long  ago,  your  Majesty; 
but  Armand  de  Clairville  may  esteem  himself 
very  fortunate  that,  through  his  tardiness,  I 
have  had  an  opportunity  of  presenting  him  to 
your  Majesty,  and  of  recommending  him  to 
your  favor." 

Armand's  heart  beat  loudly  as  he  made  a 
profound  reverence.  The  King  gave  him  a 
scrutinizing  look,  and  the  Princess  made  use 
of  the  pause  to  relate  in  as  few  words  as  possi- 
ble the  circumstance  which  had  brought  the 
boy  to  her. 

As  she  mentioned  the  letter,  the  King  said 
eagerly  :  "  I  am  truly  glad,  Madame,  that  the 
letter  from  England  did  not  fall  into  strange 
hands,  and  it  was  precisely  upon  matters  per- 
taining to  England  that  I  ventured  to  intrude 
upon  your  Highness." 

King  Louis  was  at  that  time  endeavoring 
to  prevent  King  Charles  the  Second  of  Eng- 
land from  entering  into  an  alliance  with  Hol- 
land and  Sweden.  To  attain  this  end,  he 
relied  greatly  upon  the  influence  of  his  sister- 
in-law,  who  was  also  Charles  the  Second's 
own  sister.    The  letter  which  Armand  had 


42 


THE  PAGE. 


found  was  chiefly  of  importance  as  relating 
to  this  very  point. 

Henrietta  of  Orleans  waved  her  hand,  and 
Armand,  at  once  comprehending  the  mean- 
ing of  this  gesture,  followed  Lucile  into  an 
antechamber,  while  the  Marchiones  vanished 
through  an  opposite  door. 

"  O  tell  me  quick,  was  the  pretty  little  girl 
whom  I  saw  with  you  yesterday  your  sister  ?  " 
asked  Lucile  as  soon  as  they  were  alone. 

Armand  blushed  with  embarrassment;  he 
knew  not  whether  he  ought  to  mention 
Blanche's  name ;  he  remembered,  however, 
that  the  latter  had  herself  described  Miss  de 
Raimond  as  a  kind  and  gentle  being;  and, 
despising  every  appearance  of  falsehood,  he 
finally  replied :  "  No,  she  was  not  my  sister." 

"  Do  not  seek  to  mislead  me ;  I  am  sure  I 
cannot  be  mistaken,  —  it  was  Blanche  de 
Saint  Alme." 

Armand  was  silent. 

"  Do  not  think  me  inimical  to  her  or  hers," 
continued  she,  earnestly ;  "  on  the  contrary,  I 
loved  the  pretty  child,  who  was  a  playmate  of 
my  younger  sister,  most  tenderly.   O,  and  her 


ARMAND   AT   THE  LOUVRE. 


43 


mother  was  such  a  lovely,  kind-hearted  lady ! 
Come,  can  you  not  tell  me  something  about 
them  ?  " 

Armand  candidly  related  to  the  sympathetic 
Lucile  all  that  he  knew  himself,  but  wisely 
concealed  the  suspicions  entertained  by  M. 
de  Saint  Alme  concerning  the  Marquis  de 
Maine. 

"  I  believe  you  are  right,  and  that  Blanche's 
father  is  innocent ;  but  who  can  prove  it  ? " 
said  the  good-natured  young  girl. 

Before  Armand  could  reply,  the  King  passed 
out  from  Madame  Henrietta's  apartment ;  he 
again,  and  not  without  interest,  observed  the 
boy,  and  vanished,  after  returning  the  young 
lady's  salutation. 

Armand  was  once  more  bidden  to  the 
Princess's  presence,  and  was  asked  whether  he 
would  like  to  be  admitted  as  a  page  in  her 
establishment. 

Overcome  by  the  excess  of  his  gratitude 
and  delight,  he  bent  his  knee  before  his  lofty 
benefactress.  What  a  glorious  future  was  ail 
at  once  opened  to  his  view !  He  was  to  be- 
gin his  career  at  court,  under  the  very  eye  of 


44 


THE  PAGE. 


the  Princess  and  of  the  King!  If  he  acted 
well,  he  must  surely  receive  an  appointment 
as  an  officer,  and  then  all  the  bold  dreams 
might  be  fulfilled  with  which  he  had  so  lavish- 
ly entertained  his  little  friend. 

Happy  beyond  expression,  Armand  returned 
to  his  cousin's  modest  dwelling. 


4 


CHAPTER  III. 


THE  DISCOVERY. 

Armand  must  of  course  obtain  his  uncle's 
consent  before  he  could  accept  his  new  ap- 
pointment. 

Count  Roger  receiyed  the  boy  on  his  return 
with  considerably  more  warmth  than  he  had 
ever  before  shown  towards  him,  and  listened 
to  his  account  of  his  adventures  with  more 
interest  than  he  had  felt  for  anything  since 
King  Henry's  death.  Armand's  lively  descrip- 
tions, the  enthusiastic  picture  which  he  drew 
of  the  monarch,  awakened  in  the  old  gray- 
haired  man  pleasant  memories  of  his  own 
youth,  when  he  had  dwelt  in  the  same  palpce, 
near  his  idolized  sovereign. 

Count  Roger  had  become  entirely  indiffer- 
ent towards  the  exterior  world,  but  he  could 


46 


THE  PAGE. 


not  avoid  both  feeling  and  showing  an  interest, 
if  only  a  fleeting  one,  in  his  nephew's  plans 
and  hopes  for  the  future.  He  settled  a  con- 
siderable sum  upou  the  boy,  who  was  entirely 
dependent  upon  him,  and,  giving  him  his  bless- 
ing, sent  him  to  Paris ;  but  when  Armand's 
light  steps  no  more  resounded  through  the  old 
halls  at  Clairville,  the  aged  warrior's  life  be- 
came more  quiet,  monotonous,  and  desolate 
than  ever. 

Parting  from  Blanche  cost  both  children 
many  tears,  and  the  little  girl  said  sorrowfully : 
"  I  knew  well  that,  when  you  had  once  been 
to  Paris,  you  would  never  be  content  to  dwell 
in  our  lonely  valley ;  I  saw  that  in  your  glisten- 
ing eyes,  when  Madame  Henriette  promised  to 
become  your  advocate.  It  will  be  a  long,  long 
time  before  we  will  meet  again,  my  good  Ar- 
mand ! " 

"  Do  not  think  so,  my  dear,  sweet  Blanche ; 
I  will  come  sometimes  and  see  you  and  my 
good  uncle  ;  besides,  I  will  often  think  of  you, 
and  then  —  " 

Blanche  looked  at  him  inquiringly. 

"  You  see,"  continued  he,  seizing  her  hand, 


THE  DISCOVERY. 


47 


"  I  must  always  think  that  you  will  return  to 
Paris,  and  that  your  parents  will  be  as  happy 
and  prosperous  as  they  ever  were." 

The  child  doubtingly  shook  her  head,  and 
the  two  parted. 

Armand  de  Clairville  was  the  handsomest 
page  in  Henrietta  of  Orleans's  household. 
Graceful,  prudent,  and  witty,  he  soon  capti- 
vated all  around  him,  and  his  mistress  treated 
him  more  as  a  beloved,  spoiled  child  than  as 
a  subordinate.  He  had  several  hours  during 
the  day  unoccupied ;  and,  following  the  counsel 
of  Lucile,  who  was  kind  as  a  sister  towards 
him,  he  employed  them  in  study,  and  in  ex- 
tending the  circle  of  his  acquirements.  It 
appeared  that  Lucile's  father,  Count  Raimond, 
had  been  a  friend  of  his  own  dead  father's,  and 
the  Count,  remembering  with  pleasure  his  for- 
mer intimate  relations,  neglected  no  opportu- 
nity of  serving  the  orphan  boy. 

Mr.  Ernilius  Bernard  was  quite  proud  of  his 
handsome  little  cousin,  who  had  long  since  im- 
parted to  him  his  conviction  that  he  was  in- 
debted for  the  pretty  blue  silk  costume  to  Miss 


48 


THE  PAGE. 


Lucile,  who  had  witnessed  from  her  mother's 
window  his  mishap  and  confusion. 

Although  Armand  succeeded  in  winning 
the  good- will  of  nearly  all  around  him,  he  was 
less  fortunate  with  the  Marchioness  de  Maine 
and  her  husband,  —  the  very  gentleman  whose 
equipage  had  ruined  his  first  costume.  The 
Marchioness  seemed,  as  well  as  Lucile,  to 
have  recognized  Blanche,  and  although  she 
never  asked  whether  the  boy  were  related  to 
her  or  not,  she  always  regarded  him  with 
mistrust.  Armand  cared  little  for  the  Mar- 
chioness's proud  mien  and  repulsive  hauteur, 
and  was  very  careful  not  to  display  the  least 
suspicion  or  sensitiveness.  His  demeanor  to- 
wards her  was  ever  quiet  and  measured,  and 
she  gradually  began  to  look  upon  him  less 
sharply  and  more  indifferently. 

But  Armand  never  forgot  his  promise  to 
Blanche;  he  retained  a  true  and  faithful  re- 
membrance of  his  little  friend,  who  now  dwelt 
alone  in  the  blooming  valley,  and  often  thought 
of  her  lively  playmate. 

Thus  passed  several  months. 


THE  DISCOVERY. 


49 


One  day,  late  in  October,  a  magnificent 
festival  was  in  preparation  at  the  Louvre. 
During  many  days  beforehand,  nothing  was 
talked  of  in  Paris  but  the  splendor  and  bril- 
liancy which  on  that  evening  were  to  dazzle 
the  eyes  of  all  beholders.  The  festival  was 
in  honor  of  the  Queen's  birthday ;  and  she,  as 
a  Spanish  Princess,  was  so  accustomed  to 
luxury  and  display,  that  the  most  unparal- 
leled magnificence  was  required  to  surprise 
her. 

In  the  afternoon,  Henrietta  of  Orleans  sat 
before  her  rich  toilet-table  with  a  costly  array 
of  shining  stones,  rings,  and  strings  of  pearls 
spread  out  before  her.  She  held  a  sparkling 
diadem  of  brilliants  in  her  hand,  and  playfully 
laid  it  upon  Lucile's  dark  locks.  The  young 
girl  knelt  before  her  mistress,  and  smiled  as  she 
submitted  to  this  trial  of  the  becomingness  of 
the  ornament.    Armand  was  also  present. 

"  You  must  adorn  me  with  this  to-night," 
said  the  Princess ;  "  it  is  a  gift  from  his  Maj- 
esty, but  it  will  scarcely  appear  so  beautiful  as 
amid  your  dark  locks." 

Neither  Lucile  nor  Armand  could  agree  to 

4 


50 


THE  PAGE. 


this,  for  in  the  eyes  of  both,  Henrietta's  beauty 
was  unrivalled.  The  Princess  lifted  the  gor- 
geous diadem  from  Lucile's  head,  and  wove 
instead  a  string  of  Oriental  pearls  amid  the 
flowing  curls,  at  the  same  time  assuring  the 
enchanted  girl  that  the  pearls  were  for  her, 
and  that  she  must  wear  them  on  that  very- 
evening. 

While  Lucile  strove  in  vain  to  express  her 
thanks  to  her  kind  mistress,  the  latter  took  a 
similar  string,  and,  laying  it  in  a  little  velvet 
case,  said  to  Armand :  "  This  is  for  the  Mar- 
chioness de  Maine ;  take  it  to  her  at  once, 
Clairville!" 

Armand  bowed,  and  went,  as  obedience  re- 
quired, but  sorely  against  his  will,  to  the  proud 
lady  who  was  ever  so  ungracious  to  him. 

At  the  end  of  a  short  corridor  he  entered  the 
Marchioness's  antechamber.  It  was  empty; 
neither  the  lady  nor  any  of  her  servants  were 
to  be  seen.  The  room  must  have  been  occu- 
pied but  a  moment  before,  for  the  little  inlaid, 
ebony  writing-desk  was  half  open.  A  red- 
morocco  portfolio,  with  silver  clasps,  had  fallen 
upon  the  floor,  and  the  Marchioness's  hand- 


THE  DISCOVERY 


THE  DISCOVERY. 


51 


some  greyhound  crouched  growling  upon  the 
floor,  and  used  her  sharp  teeth  to  drag  out  a 
multitude  of  letters,  which  were  immediately 
torn  into  a  thousand  pieces,  and  flew  over  the 
carpet  like  flakes  of  snow. 

As  Armand  entered,  Phoebe  —  such  was 
the  dog's  name  —  friendlily  wagged  her  white 
tail,  but  did  not  cease  a  moment  in  her  labor 
of  destruction* 

Armand  sprang  upon  her,  and  after  a  short 
struggle  succeeded  in  rescuing  the  portfolio, 
which  had  meanwhile  been  so  torn  and  bit- 
ten that  the  few  remaining  letters  dropped 
out.  He  quickly  gathered  them  together,  and 
awaited  the  Marchioness's  arrival,  that  he 
might  restore  to  her  the  remnants  of  her 
property. 

He  waited  long  in  vain ;  the  lady  must 
have  left  the  room  on  very  pressing  affairs, 
as  was  proved  by  the  open  desk,  with  which, 
as  it  appeared  from  closer  observation,  Phoebe 
had  for  some  time  been  amusing  herself. 

The  day  began  to  darken.  Armand  knew 
that  his  duty  required  him  to  return  to  the 
Princess,  but  he  did  not  venture  to  leave  the 


52 


THE  PAGE. 


pearls  or  the  open  letters  in  the  unlocked 
room;  neither  could  he  trust  them  with  a 
servant,  although  he  might  easily  have  found 
one. 

He  determined  to  give  the  ornament  and 
letters  to  the  Marchioness  herself,  somewhat 
later  in  the  evening,*  and  left  the  room,  after 
having  gathered  up  and  laid  aside  the  bits  of 
paper  strewing  the  carpet. 

Phoebe  curled  herself  up,  with  the  most  in- 
nocent air  in  the  world,  upon  her  mistress's 
embroidered  sofa. 

The  Princess  had  several  other  commissions 
for  her  page  which  must  be  immediately  ful- 
filled, and  which  detained  him  until  he  had  no 
time  to  lose  in  making  his  own  preparations 
for  a  suitable  appearance  at  the  ball. 

The  Marchioness,  her  letters,  and  Phoebe 
were  soon  entirely  forgotton. 

The  gay  saloons  of  the  Louvre  glittered 
with  innumerable  wax-candles,  whose  brilliant 
beams  shone  down  upon  thousands  of  bloom- 
ing and  gorgeously  apparelled  figures.  It 
seemed  as  if  all  the  treasure-houses  in  Eu- 


THE  DISCOVERY. 


53 


rope  had  been  rifled  of  their  contents,  so 
splendid  and  abundant  were  the  gleaming 
stones  and  precious  pearls  adorning  both 
cavaliers  and  ladies.  The  perfumed  orange- 
trees  and  exotic  plants,  which,  notwithstanding 
the  coldness  of  the  season,  bloomed  in  beau- 
tiful, graceful  vases,  added  much  to  the  charm 
of  the  tastefully  ornamented  halls. 

Maria  Theresa,*  Queen  of  France,  entered, 
led  by  her  husband.  She  was  a  mild  lady, 
with  gentle,  almost  timid  features,  and  far 
less  beautiful  than  her  sister-in-law.  Henri- 
etta of  Orleans,  led  by  the  Duke,  Philip,  fol- 
lowed the  royal  pair.  In  her  train  came  the 
Marchioness  de  Maine,  with  her  head  loftier 
than  ever;  and,  as  if  not  content  with  the 
already  unusual  height  of  her  stature,  she  had 
placed  on  the  very  top  of  her  unlovely  head 
a  cap  with  nodding  plumes. 

Henrietta's  maids  of  honor,  among  whom 
was  Lucile  de  Raimond,  in  a  white  gauze 
dress  with  the  pearls  in  her  dark  hair,  followed 

*  We  should  perhaps  remark,  that  Maria  Theresa  of  France, 
a  princess  of  Spanish  birth,  is  here  alluded  to,  and  not  the 
celebrated  Maria  Theresa  of  Austria,  who  lived  a  century  later. 


54 


THE  PAGE. 


the  proud  mistress  of  ceremonies,  and  with 
them  came  the  Princess's  pages. 

Armand,  with  looks  lofty  as  a  field-marshal, 
stepped  securely  and  composedly  over  the 
smooth  and  shining  floor.  Whoso  had  then 
seen  him,  with  his  richly  embroidered  suit  of 
green  velvet,  the  sleeves  trimmed  with  white 
satin  puffs  and  bows  of  ribbon,  and  in  his 
hand  a  tiny  cap  whose  snowy  ostrich-plumes 
swept  the  floor,  would  certainly  have  agreed 
that  the  boy  was  well  fitted  to  adorn  the  suite 
of  the  idolized  Princess  Henrietta. 

Armand  seemed  to  feel  thus  himself,  for  he 
answered  the  Marchioness's  haughty  glance 
with  another  quite  as  haughty ;  he  also 
seemed  to  be  in  no  mood  to  impart  to  her 
the  information  that  he  had  rescued  a  portion 
of  her  letters  from  Phoebe's  sharp  teeth. 

To-morrow  would  be  quite  time  enough  to 
afford  her  that  pleasure  ;  he  was  then  fully 
occupied  in  waiting  on  his  mistress,  by  hand- 
ing her  refreshments  on  massive  silver  waiters. 

Fatigued  by  the  oppressive  ceremonies  and 
formalities  which  royalty  was  at  that  period 
forced  to  endure  at  similar  festivals,  Henrietta 


THE  DISCOVERY. 


55 


of  Orleans  soon  withdrew  into  a  small  side- 
room,  of  which  the  entrance  was  permitted 
only  to  a  favored  few.  She  did  not  return 
to  the  throne-hall  until  near  the  close  of  the 
ball,  and  there  she  perceived  that  she  had  lost 
or  forgotten  her  fan  in  the  little  side-room. 
A  fan  was  at  that  day  such  an  indispensable 
article  of  a  lady's  wardrobe,  that  one  almost 
fancied  it  impossible  to  exist,  if  deprived  of 
that  important  accessory  to  grace  and  good 
manners. 

The  active  Armand  was  soon  sent  in  search 
of  the  missing  fan,  and  a  few  moments  after, 
the  boy  entered  the  little  cabinet. 

It  was  empty,  and  in  the  very  spot  where 
so  many  had  so  recently  longed  to  be,  neither 
lady  nor  cavalier  could  now  be  seen.  They 
had  all  departed  with  the  Princess. 

Armand  looked  amid  the  downy  cushions 
of  the  divan,  and  on  the  carpet,  but  in  vain ; 
he  could  not  find  the  fan,  which,  in  accordance 
with  the  then  prevailing  fashion,  was  much 
too  large  to  be  easily  concealed. 

One  place  still  remained  unse arched ;  this 
was  a  deep  window-recess,  half  hidden  be- 


56 


THE  PAGE. 


hind  a  mas?  of  heavy,  dark  curtains ;  the 
Princess  had  frequently  retired  for  a  few 
moments  into  this  sequestered  spot,  whence 
the  tumult  and  confusion  of  the  glittering 
throng  seemed  more  distant  and  less  op- 
pressive. 

Armand  slipped  behind  the  curtains,  and  a 
moment  after,  his  eyes  fell  upon  a  bunch  of 
marabout  feathers  with  a  chased  gold  handle ; 
this  was  the  missing  fan,  u.nd  Armand  joyfully 
turned  to  leave  this  solitary  place. 

As  he  opened  the  curtains  to  return,  he 
suddenly  perceived  he  was  no  longer  alone. 
The  Marquis  de  Maine  and  his  wife  stood 
immediately  before  the  recess,  but  did  not 
seem  to  perceive  him,  and  their  countenances, 
which  were  always  exhibited  to  the  multitude 
so  cold  and  stiff  that  no  one  could  divine  a 
single  thought  or  feeling,  now  exhibited  un- 
mistakable signs  of  strong  excitement. 

Armand  suffered  the  curtain  gently  to  fall 
into  its  place,  not  knowing  at  the  moment 
what  it  was  best  for  him  to  do. 

"  Madame,"  said  the  Marquis,  in  a  low  but 
angry  tone,  u  I  always  thought  those  letters 


THE  DISCOVERY. 


57 


would  bring  misfortune  upon  us  ;  why  have 
you  delayed  so  long  in  committing  them  to 
the  flames  ?  " 

"  I  could  not  dream,  my  lord,  that  there 
could  be  thieves  in  the  palace,  who  would 
rifle  the  secrets  of  my  writing-desk ! "  replied 
the  lady  coldly. 

"  And  yet  you  are  usually  very  mistrustful, 
Adele ;  how  came  you  upon  this  occasion  to 
neglect  your  usual  precautions  ?  " 

"  The  letters  were  securely  placed  in  a 
locked  portfolio." 

«  And  the  desk?" 

"  It  is  possible  that  in  my  haste  I  neglected 
to  lock  it ;  you  remember,  Gaston,  that  you 
sent  for  me  to  your  chamber  to  discuss  some 
important  affairs ;  when  I  returned,  I  found 
the  desk  open  ;  the  portfolio  was  missing,  but 
there  was  no  other  sign  of  any  one's  having 
made  a  forcible  entrance  into  the  room." 

Armand  was  about  to  step  forth  and  an- 
nounce the  fortunate  rescue  of  the  papers, 
when  he  heard  the  Marchioness  say,  in  a' 
spiteful  tone :  "  The  portfolio  also  contained 
those  unfortunate  letters  which  would  have 


58 


THE  PAGE. 


destroyed  you  long  ago,  had  you  not  been 
prudent  enough  to  throw  the  blame  upon 
Saint  Alme." 

Armand  scarcely  breathed.  The  Marquis 
strode  up  and  down  the  room  with  rapid  steps 
and  sparkling  eyes.  He  felt  that  a  terrible 
storm  was  about  to  burst  over  his  head,  and 
now  that  he  was  in  danger,  he  could  not  think 
of  breaking  with  the  only  being  in  the  world 
bound  to  cling  to  him  ;  he  consequently  some- 
what softened  his  tone  as  he  said :  "  And  have 
you  no  suspicion,  Adele  ?  Are  there  none  of 
your  suite  who  might  play  you  such  a  ras- 
cally trick?" 

"  I  have  no  reason  to  distrust  any  of  my 
servants;  but  my  valet  saw  the  little  Clair- 
ville,  Madame's  saucy  page,  leave  my  room." 

"  What  are  you  dreaming  of,  Adele ;  that 
insignificant  child  ?  " 

"  Insignificant,  my  lord  ?  I  have  already 
told  you,  that,  the  first  time  tfce  Princess  and 
I  saw  him,  Blanche  de  Saint  Alme  was  with 
him.  The  children  may  very  readily  have 
entered  into  some  conspiracy,  for  Saint  Alme 
always  mistrusted  you." 


THE  DISCOVERY. 


59 


The  Marquis  cried  out  hastily :  "  The  boy- 
must  be  arrested  before  he  has  any  opportunity 
of  misusing  the  papers ! " 

"  But  under  what  pretext  ?  " 

"  We  must  impute  to  him  some  trifling 
negligence  in  his  service,  which  I,  as  lord 
high-steward,  can  very  readily  do ;  during  the 
arrest,  it  will  not  be  difficult,  through  force  or 
persuasion,  to  bring  the  boy  to  a  confession. 
Of  course,  no  one  must  know  of  what  we 
accuse  him." 

The  cunning  Marchioness  certainly  had  no 
need  of  this  closing  admonition,  and  she  re- 
ceived it  with  a  contemptuous  smile.  She 
did  not,  however,  oppose  the  plan  of  accusing 
Armand,  and  thus  parted  the  worthy  pair  to 
return  to  their  places  in  the  throne-hall. 

Armand  still  lingered  a  short  time  in  his 
hiding-place,  to  deliberate.  To  make  a  con- 
fidante of  the  Princess  was  impossible,  for 
the  ball  was  not  yet  ended,  and  she  was  sur- 
rounded by  a  circle  of  the  highest  nobility. 
But  he  was  also  convinced  that  before  the  end 
of  the  evening  he  would  be  arrested,  and  that 
during  his  arrest  the  Marquis  would  search 


60 


THE  PAGE. 


his  room.  Finally  his  thoughts  fell  upon 
Miss  de  Raimond,  who  had  always  testified 
so  deep  a  sympathy  towards  Blanche  and  her 
family. 

He  left  the  window-recess,  and,  hasten- 
ing out  through  a  side-door,  passed  through 
several  corridors,  and  finally  reached  his  own 
room.  He  hid  the  letters  carefully  about  him, 
and  returned  to  the  throne-hall  by  the  same 
route. 

He  found  Madame  Henriette  in  earnest 
conversation  with  Madame  de  Sevigne  (a 
gifted  authoress),  and  his  long  absence  oc- 
casioned no  remark,  as  the  JPrincess  silently 
took  her  fan  from  his  hand,  now  quivering 
with  the  excitement  of  a  joyful  hope. 

Armand  soon  found  an  opportunity  of  im- 
parting to  his  friend  Lucile  all  the  weighty 
occurrences  of  the  last  few  hours.  Lucile 
was  delighted  at  the  idea  of  being  instrumen- 
tal in  the  vindication  of  poor  Saint  Alme's 
reputation,  and  willingly  took  charge  of  the 
important  letters,  which  were  much  safer  in 
her  hands  than  in  those  of  Armand. 

"  Ha !  Blanche,  now  your  father  will  be 


THE  DISCOVERY. 


61 


entirely  justified,  and  I,  your  friend,  will  be 
the  chief  cause !  " 

Supported  by  this  powerful  consolation, 
Armand  quietly  awaited  the  lord  high-stew- 
ard's vain  arrest. 


CHAPTER  IV. 


"  TIME    UNVEILS  TRUTH." 

The  ball  finally  came  to  an  end,  and  Ar- 
mand's  previsions  were  correct,  for  he  had 
scarcely  entered  his  room  when  he  received 
an  order  from  the  lord  high-steward  to  proceed 
at  once  to  the  guard-room,  and  there  await 
his  future  destination. 

This  was  a  very  unusual  mode  of  proceed- 
ing, for  the  pages  accused  of  some  slight 
fault  in  the  performance  of  their  duty  were 
always  first  subjected  to  confinement  in  their 
own  apartments,  and  only  sent  to  the  guard- 
room when  the  fault  was  proved,  and  was  of 
sufficient  importance  to  deserve  actual  punish- 
ment. With  a  serene  countenance  and  some 
careless  observation,  Armand  followed  the 
young  officer  who  had  been  sent  to  lead  him 


"  TIME   UNVEILS  TRUTH." 


63 


to  the  guard-room  ;  and  the  young  man,  aston- 
ished at  the  boy's  self-possession,  smiled  as 
he  half-mechanically  repeated  the  consolatory 
sentences  he  was  accustomed  to  make  use 
of  on  similar  occasions. 

As  soon  as  Armand  was  out  of  sight,  the 
Marquis,  under  some  frivolous  pretext,  caused 
the  page's  door  to  be  forced  open.  He  entered 
with  his  customary  air  of  stiff  grandeur;  but 
scarcely  had  the  servants  left  him,  when  his 
countenance  assumed  an  entirely  different  ex- 
pression. Rage  and  hate  shot  from  the  little 
sunken  eyes,  as  with  impatient  haste  he  pro- 
ceeded to  open  Armand's  writing-desk. 

His  search  was  of  course  in  vain.  Neither 
note  nor  envelope,  not  even  the  most  trifling 
scrap  of  paper,  justified  his  suspicions.  But 
the  less  cause  he  found  to  suspect  the  boy, 
the  more  deeply  he  felt  convinced  that  Ar- 
mand was  about  to  betray  him.  He  did  not 
doubt  that  Saint- Alme  had  confided  to  the 
page  all  the  secrets  of  his  fall,  and  his  sus- 
picions. If  the  letters  had  been  stolen  and 
were  to  fall  into  Saint- Alme's  hands,  the 
justification  of  the  latter,  and  the  ruin  of  the 


64 


THE  PAGE. 


Marquis,  would  be  inevitable,  for  they  would 
prove  only  too  clearly  that  De  Maine  had 
acted  as  a  spy  for  England,  and  had  be- 
trayed the  king's  agreement  with  Holland. 

The  more  hopeless  the  search  became,  the 
more  violently  was  the  worthy  nobleman's 
wrath  enkindled  ;  he  even  forgot  his  customary 
prudence,  and  tossed  about  the  books  and 
papers  in  so  reckless  a  manner  that  all  soon 
fell  into  confusion,  and  the  Marquis's  stifF 
fingers  strove  in  vain  to  restore  a  little  order, 
and  conceal  the  traces  of  his  passionate  search. 

He  looked  through  all  the  boy's  clothes  and 
closets,  but  of  course  in  vain. 

Great  drops  of  perspiration  rolled  down 
from  the  Marquis's  pale  brow;  fear  and  an- 
guish seized  upon  him,  and  left  him  but  one 
last  hope,  —  the  boy  must  have  concealed  the 
papers  in  the  clothes  which  he  then  wore. 

The  lord  high-steward  at  once  betook  him- 
self to  the  guard-room. 

He  found  the  boy  in  a  little  side-chamber, 
reading ;  the  good-natured  officer  on  guard 
had  lent  him  a  heart-rending,  knightly  ro- 
mance, which  had  completely  reconciled  the 
young  page  to  his  involuntary  captivity. 


TIME  UNVEILS  TRUTH.'' 


65 


The  night  was  quite  cold ;  Armand  still 
wore  the  light  dress  which  he  had  donned 
for  the  festival,  and  could  not  avoid  shivering 
to  his  fingers'  ends  as  the  cold  chills  ran  down 
beneath  his  lace  cuffs. 

He  silently  rose  as  the  Marquis  entered,  and 
quietly  assented,  as  the  latter  said,  with  un- 
usual condescension :  — 

"  It  is  not  my  intention,  Clairville,  to  expose 
your  tender  constitution  to  the  injurious  in- 
fluence of  the  cold,  at  least  so  far  as  it  can  be 
avoided.  Your  servant  stands  without  with 
warmer  clothes,  and  with  his  aid  you  can 
make  yourself  much  more  comfortable  than 
you  are  at  present." 

Armand  at  once  understood  the  noble  lord's 
guileful  proposition,  but  silently  retired,  and 
arrayed  himself  in  the  warmer  clothing. 

The  servant  was  a  creature  of  the  lord  high- 
steward's,  and  in  all  things  blindly  subservient 
to  his  will.  He  watched  closely  whether  the 
page  would  take  a  letter  or  a  package  from 
the  pockets  of  his  court-dress,  and  as  he  did 
not  do  so,  he  triumphantly  placed  the  fine 
costume  in  the  Marquis's  hands. 

5 


66 


THE  PAGE. 


In  vain  did  the  latter  turn  all  the  pockets 
inside  out,  and  loosen  all  the  folds ;  the  deli- 
cate laces  were  almost  destroyed  by  the  im- 
patient handling  of  the  angry  man;  —  but  the 
desired  papers  were  nowhere  to  be  found. 

As  soon  as  Lucile  de  Raimond  heard  of 
Armand's  arrest,  she  hastened  to  her  father, 
and,  giving  him  the  letters,  admitted  him  into 
the  secret. 

The  Count  saw  at  once  that  he  could  now 
prove  the  truth  of  a  conviction  which  he  had 
long  secretly  entertained.  Notwithstanding 
the  weight  of  evidence  againt  Saint- Alme, 
Count  Raimond  had  never  believed  him 
guilty,  for  he  had  always  known  him  to  be 
a  faithful  servant  of  King  Louis.  De  Maine 
had  so  skilfully  woven  the  meshes  of  suspicion 
round  the  King's  mind,  that  in  the  first  vio- 
lence of  his  anger  he  would  listen  to  no  defence 
of  Saint- Alme,  although  the  latter  had  once 
stood  very  high  in  his  favor.  But  now  this 
violence  had  somewhat  abated ;  and  only  a 
few  days  before,  he  had  spoken  of  Saint- Alme 
to  the  Count  with  considerable  interest. 


"time  unveils  truth." 


67 


Lucile's  father  soon  decided  upon  his  course 
of  conduct ;  he  hastened  to  the  king,  and  im- 
parted to  him  the  important  discovery,  to 
which  Louis  listened  with  the  more  interest, 
that  he  had  formerly  been  really  attached  to 
Saint- Alme. 

And  thus,  while  the  Marquis  and  his  spouse 
were  employing  all  the  powers  of  their  treach- 
erous natures  to  recover  the  letters,  they  were 
already  in  the  very  hands  in  which  they  chiefly 
feared  to  see  them. 

There  could  no  longer  be  found  any  pretext 
for  detaining  the  page ;  Henrietta  of  Orleans 
had  herself  repeatedly  asked  for  him,  and  he 
could  consequently  be  accused  of  no  negli- 
gence in  her  service. 

He  then  found  himself  the  next  day  restored 
to  his  place  at  his  mistress's  side,  and  great 
was  his  delight  when  Lucile  joyfully  whis- 
pered in  his  ear  the  result  of  her  efforts. 

The  Marquis  inwardly  despaired,  but  he 
skilfully  maintained  his  usual  proud  demeanor. 
But  his  cold  features  assumed  a  really  hideous 
expression,  when,  on  the  third  day  after  the 
ball,  he  beheld  Saint-Alme  enter  the  king's 
antechamber. 


68 


THE  PAGE. 


De  Maine  gasped  for  breath,  but  after  a  few 
moments,  recovering  his  self-possession,  he  said 
with  icy  politeness :  "  Sir,  I  can  scarcely  be- 
lieve that  you  seek  an  audience  of  his  Ma- 
jesty?" 

"  Most  assuredly  I  do ;  it  was  for  that  pur- 
pose I  came  hither,  Lord  Marquis." 

"  Your  endeavor  will  be  fruitless,  M.  dc 
Saint-Alme!" 

"  The  audience  is  nevertheless  granted," 
replied  De  Raimond,  who  at  that  moment 
left  the  king's  apartment,  and  beckoned  Saint- 
Ami  e  to  follow  him. 

The  Marquis  stood  as  if  stricken  by  a  thun- 
derbolt. 

With  the  aid  of  the  important  letters,  it  was 
of  course  very  easy  for  Saint-Alme  entirely  to 
justify  himself,  and  he  soon  stood  higher  than 
ever  in  King  Louis's  favor. 

It  was  suggested  to  the  Marquis  and  his 
worthy  spouse  that  they  had  better  leave  the 
court  as  soon  as  possible,  and  enjoy  in  some 
foreign  land  the  pleasant  consequences  of  con- 
spiracies with  England. 

The  noble  pair  never  knew  exactly  to  whom 


TIME   UNVEILS  TRUTH." 


69 


they  owed  their  fall ;  they  divined  that  the 
tell-tale  letters  must  have  come  into  the 
King's  possession,  but  the  manner  $f  their 
betrayal  always  remained  a  mystery  to  them. 
At  all  events,  they  never  suspected  the  guilty 
Phoebe,  for  she  accompanied  her  mistress  to  a 
foreign  country,  where  both  soon  after  died. 

The  Marquis  also  closed  his  renowned 
career  in  Italy 

The  meeting  with  Blanche  was  a  moment 
of  rapture  to  both  children,  and,  now  that  they 
were  so  frequently  together,  they  often  thought 
with  fond  remembrance  of  the  lovely  valley 
near  Clairville  Hall. 


Years  passed;  old  Count  Roger  de  Clair- 
ville died,  and  we  may  presume  that  his 
melancholy  longing  was  finally  satisfied  by 
an  eternal  reunion  with  his  truly  loved  King 
Henry. 

The  Count  left  considerable  property,  and 
all,  including  Clairville  Hall,  was  inherited  by 
his  only  living  relative,  Armand  Clairville. 

Our  handsome  page  lived  now  no  longer  in 


70 


THE  PAGE. 


the  immediate  service  of  Henrietta  of  Orleans  ; 
he  had  entered  a  royal  regiment,  and  the  bril- 
liant dreams  with  which  he  had  entertained 
his  little  friend  were  so  far  fulfilled,  that  her 
colors,  which  he  always  wore,  had  been  victori- 
ous in  many  a  gay  tournament.  As  a  man, 
he  fulfilled  all  the  promise  of  the  boy,  and  was 
ever  brave,  good,  and  handsome  ;  he  also  con- 
tinued to  be  an  especial  favorite  of  Henrietta's. 

Lucile  de  Raimond  had  married  long  before, 
and  Blanche  now  held  her  place  as  maid  of 
honor. 

After  a  time,  Blanche  became  Armand' s 
wife ;  and  although  they  lived  chiefly  at  the 
court,  yet  they  passed  a  portion  of  every  year 
at  Clairville  Hall,  and  changed  it  from  a  soli- 
tary wilderness  into  a  beautiful  and  blooming 
summer  residence. 

M.  and  Madame  de  Saint-Alme  also  fre- 
quently visited  their  modest  little  cottage  in 
the  smiling  valley  of  Clairville  Hall. 


THE  MOUNTAIN-ELPS  GIFT. 

A  LEGEND. 


TONY . 


CHAPTER  I. 


tony's  friend. 

Evening  was  fast  approaching ;  the  village 
bells  were  summoning  all  to  prayer,  and  the 
country  people  were  returning  from  the  fields 
to  enjoy  their  well-earned  repose. 

On  the  main  road  was  seen  a  solitary  boy 
of  about  twelve  years  old ;  over  his  shoulder 
hung  a  wallet,  which,  judging  from  its  slight 
proportions,  certainly  contained  very  little. 
The  boy  strode  nimbly  on,  sang  a  merry 
ballad,  and  between  the  verses  yodelled  like 
an  Alpine  hunter,  with  his  fresh,  clear  voice. 

"  Forward !  forward,  my  friend ! "  said  he  en- 
couragingly to  himself;  "yonder  lie  the  mines 
where  your  godfather  is  overseer,  and  in  one 
little  half-hour  you  will  be  there.  Huzza! 
huzza !  you  will  soon  be  there !  " 


74 


THE   MOUNTAIN-ELF'S  GIFT. 


It  grew  gradually  darker  and  darker,  and 
although  near  objects  might  still  be  clearly 
distinguished,  yet  the  more  distant  faded  into 
a  strange  and  confused  dimness  of  outline. 
The  hill  containing  the  mine,  especially,  looked 
like  a  great  black  colossus  rising  to  heaven, 
and  although  Tony  —  such  was  the  boy's 
name  —  thought  himself  every  moment  about 
to  reach  the  spot,  it  always  retreated  before 
him,  farther  and  farther  into  the  dim  distance. 

"  H-m,  that  is  strange,"  thought  Tony;  "there 
is  the  house,  with  its  glass  windows  on  which 
the  setting  sun  was  shining  but  a  few  mo- 
ments since,  and  which  certainly  belongs  to 
my  godfather;  I  have  seen  it  plainly  for  the 
last  half-hour,  and  now  it  stands  there  like  a 
cloud,  so  gray  and  distant ;  well,  well,  that  may 
be  the  effect  of  the  closing  shades  of  night." 

The  boy  was  still  walking  rapidly  onward, 
when  he  suddenly  heard  a  clear  voice  behind 
him  cry  out :  "  Hola,  my  lad !  whither  away 
so  fast?" 

Tony  turned,  and  saw  in  the  twilight  the 
tall,  spare  figure  of  a  miner;  his  dark  blouse 
with  its  red  lacings,  and  the  miner's  cap  on  his 


tony's  friend. 


75 


head,  clearly  announced  his  profession,  and  he 
also  carried  in  his  hand  a  spade  of  such  glitter- 
ing metal  that  its  form  was  still  perfectly  dis- 
tinguishable. 

Tony  politely  lifted  his  cap  and  replied: 
"  I  would  like  before  night  to  reach  the  valley 
of  Laubbrunn  ;  my  godfather,  the  Overseer  of 
of  the  mines,  lives  there,  and  he  expects  me 
to-day." 

"  Indeed,"  replied  the  stranger,  in  a  drawl- 
ing tone,  "  and  are  you  already  acquainted 
with  your  godfather?" 

"  O  no ! "  answered  the  boy ;  "  I  come  from 
a  great  distance ;  my  home  is  at  least  forty 
miles  from  here.  It  is  now  two  years  since 
I  became  an  orphan;  and  when  my  good 
mother  died,  she  little  thought  how  her  poor 
Tony  would  be  tormented.    My  uncle,  the 

rich  landlord  of  4  The  Star,'  in  L  ,  took 

me  after  my  mother  died  to  his  own  house. 
But  he  did  not  love  me  at  all ;  he  would  not 
send  me  to  school,  and  scolded  me  all  day 
long,  because  I  was  poor  and  could  not  earn 
enough  to  satisfy  him.  I  often  visited  my 
mother's  grave,  where  I  wept  bitterly,  and 


76  the  mountain-elf's  gift. 

longed  to  go  far,  far  away  from  my  cross 
uncle.  I  frequently  thought  of  my  rich  god- 
father in  the  valley  of  Laubbrunn,  and  one 
evening,  when  I  was  thinking  of  writing  him 
a  letter,  and  of  telling  him  all  my  miseries,  a 
handsome  little  miner  stepped  up  to  me,  —  I 
was  in  the  graveyard,  —  and  gave  me  a  note, 
saying,  '  This  was  sent  you  by  Mr.  Steele, 
the  Overseer  at  Laubbrunn.'  My  hand  trem- 
bled, for  no  one  had  ever  written  to  me  before, 
but  I  quickly  broke  the  seal  and  read :  — 

" '  Silly  boy,  why  have  you  never  written  to 
me  how  unhappy  you  are  ?  Have  you  no 
confidence  in  your  old  godfather  ?  Tie  up 
your  wallet,  bid  your  uncle  of  "  The  Star " 
farewell,  and  come  to  Laubbrunn,  where  you 
will  find  a  second  father  in  old  Steele, 

Your  Godfather.' 

"  Now,  I  never  could  understand,"  contin- 
ued Tony,  confidentially,  "  how  my  godfather 
learned  my  misfortunes,  for  I  had  never  writ- 
ten to  him.  But  no  matter  for  that  !  I 
turned  round  to  take  leave  of  the  neat  little 
miner,  but  he  was  nowhere  to  be  seen.    I  told 


tony's  friend. 


77 


my  uncle  that  my  godfather  had  sent  for  me 
to  come  to  Laubbrunn.  He  seemed  quite  re- 
joiced, and  said  to  me,  '  Go,  by  all  means,  my 
boy  ;  here  is  a  half-dollar  for  travelling  money. 
Farewell.    I  wish  you  all  success  ! ' 

"  It  is  now  three  days  since  I  left  L  ; 

the  half-dollar  was  soon  spent,  and  I  have  been 
very  hungry !  But  never  mind  that :  yonder 
is  Laubbrunn,  where  my  kind  godfather  lives." 

When  Tony  had  thus  ended  his  account  of 
himself,  the  strange  miner  laughed  gayly,  and 
said :  "  Yes,  yonder  is  Laubbrunn ;  do  you 
know  your  godfather's  house  ?  " 

"  No,"  replied  the  boy ;  "  could  you  show 
me  the  way  ?  " 

"  I  ?  "  said  the  stranger  with  surprise  ;  "  no, 
I  am  not  acquainted  with  the  Overseer." 

The  boy  looked  astonished,  and  asked,  "  Do 
you  not  then  belong  to  the  mine  ?  " 

"  No  —  yes  —  that  is,  not  exactly  —  " 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,"  said  the  boy, 
shaking  his  head. 

"  No  ?  well,,  there  is  no  need  you  should ! 
Enough,  I  cannot  now  accompany  you,  but  I 
will  tell  you  how  you  must  go.    Keep  always 


78 


THE   MOUNTAIN-ELF'S  GIFT. 


to  the  right  of  the  white  wall,  and  take  care 
lest  you  should  meet  some  goblin  — " 

"  O  what  silly  stuff! "  laughed  the  boy. 

"  Do  you  not  then  believe  in  the  mountain 
elves  ?  "  asked  the  stranger. 

"  I  believe  ?    No  indeed  ! " 

"  And  are  you  not  afraid  of  them  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  But  they  are  bad  fellows,  boy." 

"  Nonsense !  they  will  do  me  no  harm ! 99 
said  Tony.  "  If  there  should  really  be  such 
beings  as  elves,  and  they  should  be  wicked,  I 
am  sure  God  will  not  let  them  do  me  any 
harm  ;  and  if  they  are  good,  they  will  probably 
send  me  gold  and  treasures  from  their  dark 
caves,  and  that  would  be  delightful." 

"  You  are  a  foolish  fellow,  little  boy,  and  I 
have  only  to  repeat,  Take  care  of  yourself! 
See,  here  is  the  end  of  the  white  wall,  and 
now  I  must  go.  Turn  to  the  left  until  you 
come  to  a  deep  well  with  a  stone  railing 
round  it ;  but  do  not  go  too  near,  for  the  well 
is  haunted.  At  the  right  of  the  well  stands 
a  little  white  house,  with  a  linden-tree  before 
the  door ;  there  dwells  Steele,  the  Overseer ; 
good  night,  my  boy !  " 


tony's  friend. 


79 


"  Good  night,  and  ^any  thanks,  dear  sir," 
replied  Tony,  offering  msvhand  to  the  stranger ; 
but  the  latter  must  have  turned  the  corner  in 
the  road  very  rapidly,  for  he  was  nowhere  to 
be  seen. 

The  boy  walked  on,  and  soon  stood  before 
the  strange  well. 

It  was  now  quite  late,  the  moon  shone  down 
from  heaven  and  flooded  the  road,  the  well, 
the  house,  and  the  linden,  with  its  pure  white 
light,  so  that  Tony  could  plainly  distinguish 
all  the  surrounding  objects.  He  went  straight 
to  the  well,  and  looked  down  into  its  depths ; 
but  he  saw  nothing  save  the  dark  water  lying 
at  a  great  depth,  and  glittering  in  the  moon- 
light as  if  it  were  some  supernatural  flame, 
emitting  silver  sparks.  The  rim  of  the  well 
consisted  of  a  broad  wall  of  gray  stone,  shaped 
almost  like  a  basin ;  a  wooden  bucket  attached 
to  a  long  chain  hung  down  into  the  well,  but 
nothing  unusual  or  peculiar  was  anywhere  to 
be  seen. 

Tony  passed  on  and  knocked  at  the  entrance 
of  the  little  house  ;  but  as  no  one  said,  Come 
in,  he  softly  entered  the  hall  door. 


80  the  mountain-elf's  gift, 

All  was  dark  and  still ;  his  heart  beat  quick 
with  joy,  at  the  thought  that  he  was  so  soon  to 
greet  a  godfather,  who  would  surely  give  him 
a  hearty  welcome. 

A  ray  of  light  glimmered  through  a  crack  in 
a  side  door ;  he  went  nearer  and  tapped  lightly. 

"  Come  in ! "  cried  a  loud  voice. 

Tony  modestly  entered. 

He  found  himself  in  a  small  apartment ;  on 
the  sofa  lay  a  man  of  about  forty  years  old, 
with  strong  features  and  gloomy,  black  eyes ; 
on  the  floor  beside  him  sat  two  immense  dogs, 
which  flew  upon  the  boy  with  a  tremendous 
noise,  and  would  have  torn  him  to  pieces  had 
the  man  not  called  them  off.  Beside  the  sofa 
sat  a  pretty  young  woman,  with  a  little  girl  of 
about  five  years  old  in  her  lap. 

Tony  lifted  his  cap  and  said,  "  I  came  to  see 
Mr.  Steele,  the  Overseer." 

"  I  am  he,  lad ;  what  do  you  want  ?  "  asked 
the  man. 

The  boy  shrank  back  affrighted,  but,  finally 
recovering  himself,  continued  :  "  Oh  !  are  you 
then  the  dear  godfather  who  has  been  so  long 
expecting  me  ?  " 


tony's  friend. 


81 


"  I  am  expecting  no  one." 
Tony  looked  abashed  and  astonished,  but 
finally  stammered  :  "  But  the  letter  — " 
«  What  letter  ?  " 

The  boy  placed  the  paper  in  his  hands. 

The  Overseer  laid  an  immense  pair  of  spec- 
tacles across  his  nose,  unfolded  the  letter,  read 
it,  and  then  said  shortly  :  "  I  never  wrote  it." 

"  O,  then  you  are  not  the  Overseer  ?  " 

"  Don't  chatter  such  nonsense,  boy  !  I  cer- 
tainly am  Steele,  the  Overseer  at  Laubbrunn  ; 
but  I  never  wrote  this  trash  ;  some  one  else  has 
used  my  name,  and  played  a  joke  upon  you. 
Who  are  you,  then  ?  " 

"  My  name  is  Tony  Petersen,  and  I  lost 
both  father  and  mother  about  two  years  ago." 

"  I  am  sorry  to  hear  that ;  I  knew  your  par- 
ents well,  and  was  godfather  to  one  of  their 
little  boys." 

"  Ah,  dear  sir,  I  am  that  very  little  boy ! " 
cried  the  excited  child,  advancing  towards  the 
Overseer,  with  the  intention  of  embracing 
him. 

"  Enough,  leave  your  nonsense  !  "  cried  the 
latter,  harshly ;  "  what  do  you  want  with  me  ?  " 

6 


82 


the  mountain-elf's  gift. 


"  Ah,  my  good  godfather,  I  was  so  forsaken 
in  the  world !  and  once,  as  I  was  weeping  very 
bitterly  at  my  mother's  grave,  a  little  miner 
suddenly  stood  before  me  and  brought  me 
your  letter — " 

"  Silly  stuff!  I  tell  you,  boy,  I  never  wrote 
that  letter,"  thundered  out  the  Overseer. 

"  Well,  —  well,  —  the  letter  which  I  thought 
my  good  godfather  had  written,"  stammered 
Tony  ;  "  and  because  I  was  so  lonely  and  for- 
saken, I  tied  up  my  wallet  and  came  here,  for 
I  surely  thought  you  had  invited  me." 

"  No,  indeed !  I  never  dreamed  of  such  a 
thing.  I  have  no  room  for  strange  children  ! 
Some  wag  has  played  this  trick  upon  you  to 
give  you  a  long  journey  for  nothing ;  you  may 
stay  here  to-night  and  rest,  but  to-morrow  you 
must  go  back  to  your  uncle ;  you  cannot  re- 
main with  me  ! " 

So  saying,  the  hard-hearted  man  left  the 
room. 

Hot  tears  rolled  down  over  Tony's  cheeks ; 
during  three  whole  days  had  he  walked,  heed-  , 
ing  neiiher  hunger  nor  thirst,  and  scarcely  feel- 
ing fatigue,  because  his  body  and  mind  were 


tony's  friend. 


83 


both  supported  by  the  hope  of  finding  a  sec- 
ond parent  in  his  godfather !  And  now,  the 
letter  was  not  really  from  the  Overseer ;  and 
further,  although  Mr.  Steele  was  his  godfather, 
he  was  not  the  less  a  cruel  man,  who  had  of- 
fered him  shelter  for  a  single  night  only,  after 
his  long  and  wearisome  journey,  during  which 
he  had  not  once  tasted  warm  food,  and  which 
had  cost  him  his  only  pair  of  shoes,  to  say 
nothing  of  his  bleeding  feet.  What  should 
he  do  now  ? 

Suddenly  he  felt  the  touch  of  a  light  hand 
upon  his  shoulder ;  he  looked  up,  and  saw  the 
pretty,  pale  woman,  who  gently  said  to  him : 
"  Do  not  weep,  my  boy ;  my  husband  means 
no  harm,  and  I  am  sure,  if  you  will  gently  per- 
suade him,  he  will  do  something  for  you,  for  I 
have  often  heard  him  speak  of  his  little  god- 
son, and  when  he  finds  that  you  have  told  the 
truth  —  " 

The  boy  blushed  crimson,  and  said  sensi- 
tively :  "  O  ma'am,  I  am  no  liar ! " 

"  I  did  not  say  you  were,  my  child,"  replied 
the  woman ;  "  but  you  must  see  that  this  let- 
ter is  a  very  strange  affair,  for,  believe  me,  my 


84  the  mountain-elf's  gift. 

husband  never  wrote  it,  and  so  many  years 
have  passed  since  he  last  saw  you,  that  of 
course  he  could  not  recognize  you." 

Tony  saw  that  the  good  woman  was  right, 
and  that  if  the  Overseer  had  not  really  written 
the  letter,  —  a  point  which  he  entirely  failed 
to  comprehend,  —  he  had  reason  sufficient  to 
mistrust  him. 

"  Come,  dry  your  eyes,  and  sit  on  my  chair, 
beside  the  little  girl ;  I  will  make  you  some 
warm  broth,  for  you  look  tired  and  hungry. 
And  then  I  will  talk  with  my  husband,  who, 
for  all  he  seems  so  harsh  and  gloomy,  has  a 
good  heart." 

So  saying,  the  woman  left  the  room ;  the 
boy  still  stood,  sad  and  despairing,  in  the  mid- 
dle of  the  apartment,  when  he  suddenly  felt 
his  arm  encircled  by  two  little  soft  hands,  and 
heard  a  pleasant,  childish  voice  say,  coaxing- 
ly :  "  Won't  you  come  and  build  houses  with 
little  Maggie,  out  of  the  blue  stones  that  Ru- 
pert brought  ?  " 

"  Are  you  Maggie  ? "  asked  Tony,  bending 
down  to  the  child. 

"  Yes,  big  man,  I  am  little  Maggie,  and  you 


tony's  friend. 


85 


are  much  gentler  than  Rupert,  and  so  you 
must  play  with  me.  I  will  sing  you  all  the 
little  songs  that  Rose  taught  me,  and  will  give 
you  my  supper,  if  you  will  only  play  with  little 
Maggie." 

"  And  so  I  will ;  but  where  then  ?  " 

The  child  hastily  drew  out  the  sofa,  pushed 
the  boy  behind  it,  and  then,  arranging  a  table 
so  that  it  filled  up  the  open  space,  the  pair 
found  themselves  in  a  nice  little  house.  Mag- 
gie upset  a  tiny  willow  basket  upon  the  ta- 
ble, and  all  her  playthings  rolled  out,  —  little 
wooden  trees  and  houses,  colored  stones  from 
the  mine,  tiny  paper  figures,  wooden  dolls, 
and  a  multitude  of  similar  articles.  The  child 
screamed  with  delight,  and,  filling  her  little 
hand  with  the  brilliant  stones,  gave  them  to 
the  boy,  saying :  "  Maggie  will  give  you  all 
these." 

"  Where  did  you  get  them,  my  sweet  child  ?  " 

"  A  pretty  little  girl  with  golden  curls  gave 
them  to  me  down  by  the  well." 

"  But  then  you  ought  not  to  give  them 
away." 

The  child  became  quite  thoughtful,  laid  her 


86 


THE   MOUNTAIN-ELF'S  GIFT. 


finger  very  seriously  on  one  side  of  her  little 
nose,  and  put  all  the  blue  stones  together  in  a 
bag,  which  she  replaced  in  the  basket.  This 
done,  she  said,  gayly  :  "  Now  we  will  play 
'Good  luck'!" 

"  But  that  is  a  game  I  do  not  know,  Mag- 
gie." 

The  child  sighed  with  comic  earnestness : 
"  Ah !  you  must  be  very  stupid,  big  man ;  take 
this  little  hammer  and  knock  on  the  table,  then 
you  will  be  a  miner,  and  I  will  be  papa,  —  so ! 
Now  light  the  little  lantern  and  go  under  the 
table,  we  will  play  that  is  the  mine.  Now  — 
are  you  in  ?    Yes  ?    Well,  then  sing  with  me  : 

"  Good  luck  !  Good  luck ! 
The  mine  is  before  us, 
We  enter  it  bold  and  free ; 
Then  chant  we  our  choras, 
For  God  watches  o'er  us, 
And  never  alone  are  we ! 
Good  luck ! " 

The  child  repeated  the  song  which  she  daily 
heard  sung  by  the  miners,  like  a  little  parrot, 
and  her  clear  voice  rang  out  through  the  room 
like  a  silver  bell.  Tony  crouched  under  the 
table,  and  sang  as  well  as  he  could  after  her. 


tony's  friend. 


87 


Maggie  laughed  heartily,  for  the  boy's  singing 
was  in  truth  far  from  charming. 

Tony  finally  asked,  "  May  I  not  come  out, 
Maggie  ?  My  back  hurts  me  ;  the  table  is  not 
high  enough  to  sit  under." 

The  child  joyfully  clapped  her  hands  and 
sprang  down  to  him.  "  So,  —  now  I  am  the 
miner,  and  you  are  papa ;  get  up  on  the  sofa, 
and  I  will  sing." 

With  inexhaustible  patience  the  simple  game 
was  ever  renewed  ;  the  child  grew  livelier  and 
livelier,  and  trilled  out  a  whole  budget  of  songs, 
which  Tony  repeated  after  her. 

The  boy  forgot  all  his  sorrow  while  playing 
with  the  dear  little  girl ;  he  laughed,  jested,  and 
sang  with  her,  until  she  finally  asked  :  "  Will 
you  always  stay  with  little  Maggie  ?  " 

Tony  remembered  his  forlorn  condition,  and 
replied  in  a  low  and  desponding  tone  :  "  I 
would  willingly  do  so,  but  my  godfather  does 
not  wish  it." 

"  But  that  is  very  naughty  in  your  god- 
father." 

"  O  do  not  say  so :  he  is  your  father." 
Maggie  opened  her  eyes,  but  understood  not 
a  word. 


88 


THE   MOUNTAIN-ELF'S  GIFT. 


At  that  moment  the  mother  entered,  bring- 
ing a  bowlful  of  smoking  broth ;  Rose,  the 
young  servant-maid,  followed,  with  a  dish  of 
peeled  potatoes,  fresh  wheat-bread,  and  good 
butter.  O,  how  our  poor  hungry  Tony  en- 
joyed the  savory  steam! 

"  Come,  boy,  help  me  on  with  the  table- 
cloth, bring  the  pewter  plates,  and  take  care  of 
the  lamp  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Steele.  "  That  is  well, 
you  are  very  skilful,"  continued  she,  encour- 
agingly, as  Tony  arranged  all  to  her  satisfac- 
tion. 

The  trio  took  their  places  and  enjoyed  their 
suppers,  while  the  Overseer  smoked  his  pipe 
and  drank  his  wine  at  the  tavern.  Mistress 
Mary  Steele  was  a  careful  housewife,  gentle 
and  industrious,  but  rarely  could  she  succeed 
in  pleasing  the  Overseer,  he  was  so  cross  and 
tyrannical ;  indeed,  he  led  his  poor  wife  a  very 
miserable  life. 

The  little  girl  prattled  gayly  on  during  the 
whole  of  supper  time.  Soon,  however,  she 
became  more  quiet,  began  to  rub  her  eyes, 
which  she  tried  in  vain  to  keep  open,  and 
finally  fell  asleep,  burying  her  pretty,  curly 


tony's  friend. 


89 


head,  like  a  little  dove,  in  the  cushions  of  the 
sofa. 

When  Tony  had  entirely  satisfied  Iiis  hun- 
ger, Mistress  Mary  took  a  lighted  candle,  and 
said  to  him  :  "  Come,  I  will  show  you  your 
room." 

Tony  followed  her  up  a  little,  well-scoured 
pair  of  stairs  to  a  pretty  room,  in  which  stood 
a  white  covered  bed,  most  invitingly  offering 
repose  to  the  boy's  weary  limbs. 

"  And  now,  my  boy,  you  must  sleep  quietly 
here  until  morning.  I  will  meanwhile  speak 
with  my  husband,  and  he  will  perhaps  give 
you  permission  to  remain  longer.  Do  not  set 
your  light  too  near  your  bed,  lest  the  coverlet 
should  take  fire ;  and  if  you  hear  a  noise  in  the 
night  do  not  be  alarmed ;  the  water  in  the 
well  often  rises  to  a  great  height,  and  as  it 
communicates  with  the  water  in  the  mine,  the 
two  combined  make  a  great  rushing  and  com- 
motion. But  do  not  fear,  there  is  not  the 
least  danger ;  good  night,  my  child,  and  sleep 
well ! " 

So  saying,  good  Mrs.  Steele  left  the  room. 
Tony  was  now  alone  ;  the  various  occur- 


90 


THE   MOUNTAIN-ELF'S  GIFT. 


rences  of  the  last  few  days  floated  confusedly 
through  his  brain.  He  had  a  refuge  for  the 
night,  but  he  could  not  avoid  thinking  of  the 
morrow.  And  then,  who  could  have  played 
him  that  wicked  trick  about  the  letter  ? 

"  Ah  !  n  he  sighed,  "  if  I  had  remained  with 
my  uncle,  I  should  at  least  have  had  food  and 
shelter,  and  now  he  will  surely  not  receive  me 
if  my  godfather  sends  me  away.  If  I  only 
knew  the  name  of  the  kind  miner  whom  I  met 
to-day,  he  might  perhaps  shelter  me  until  I 
could  find  some  employment." 

Tony  sadly  stepped  to  the  window ;  the 
moon  was  shining  brightly,  and  the  water  in 
the  well  glittered  like  silver.  An  irrepressible 
sense  of  weariness  finally  overcame  the  boy, 
and,  quickly  undressing  himself,  he  crept  into 
the  soft  feather-bed. 

Ere  he  slept,  he  prayed  earnestly  and  trust- 
ingly to  God,  as  indeed  good  children  never 
forget  to  do ;  for  if  they  are  sad  and  troubled, 
prayer  will  render  them  more  peaceful ;  and  if 
they  feel  happy  and  joyous,  it  is  but  reasona- 
ble that  they  should  thank  God  for  having 
made  them  so. 


tony's  friend. 


91 


When  Tony  had  finished  his  prayer,  he  felt 
much  more  cheerful  and  contented,  and  soon 
closed  his  weary  eyes  in  a  sweet  sleep. 

After  a  time  he  thought  he  heard  a  great 
noise  as  of  rushing  waters  ;  still  half  asleep,  he 
opened  his  eyes  and  saw 'the  white  foam 
glittering  among  the  dark  branches  of  the 
linden.  It  rose  higher  and  higher,  and  finally 
came  with  such  violence  against  the  window- 
panes  that  they  were  broken,  and  the  foam- 
ing stream  poured  through  the  room.  And 
as  the  white  waves  flowed  in,  one  after  an- 
other, they  divided,  and  were  changed  into 
shining  crystals  and  bars  of  silver  lying  in 
rows  upon  the  floor.  Suddenly,  the  room 
swarmed  with  little  figures  in  long  beards  and 
miners'  blouses,  with  spades  over  their  shoul- 
ders, and  tiny  dark-lanterns  in  their  hands. 
They  walked  solemnly  two  and  two  to  the 
boy's  bedside,  and  softly  sang  the  following 
words :  — 

"  In  the  mine  dark  and  deep, 

Bright  treasures  we  keep, 
And  watch  them  with  unceasing  care  ! 

Of  crystals  the  whitest, 

Of  metals  the  brightest, 


92 


THE   MOUNTAIN-ELF'S  GIFT. 


Down  in  the  deep, 
How  they  peacefully  sleep, 
Those  treasures  of  earth,  rich  and  rare ! 

"  Whom  the  spirits  would  serve, 
They  lead  him  below  ; 
As  he  may  deserve, 

Their  gifts  they  bestow. 
Through  the  darkness  of  night 

We  '11  lead  him  below, 
And  dazzle  his  sight 

With  the  glorious  show 
Of  the  treasures  we  keep 
In  the  mine  dark  and  deep, 
Of  the  treasures  of  earth,  rich  and  rare ! 

Good  luck  !  "  * 

When  the  song  was  ended,  the  strange  little 
elves  began  to  hammer  and  knock  against  the 
crystals  and  silver  bars  until  the  pieces  flew 
high  in  the  air,  and  fell  upon  the  bewildered 
boy's  little  couch.  Tony's  forehead  was  cov- 
ered with  a  cold  sweat,  and  yet  all  looked 
gray  and  indistinct,  as  if  it  were  indeed  only 
a  dream. 

Four  little  elves  stood  near  his  bed,  and 
struck  their  silver  hammers  upon  a  bar  of 
metal  seemingly  as  hard  as  iron.  It  finally 
began  to  yield ;  at  first,  only  small  fragments 


tony's  friend. 


93 


flew  off,  but  at  length  it  divided  in  the  middle, 
and  a  brilliant  light  issued  from  the  cleft  as  if 
a  crimson  tulip  had  suddenly  unfolded  its 
leaves.  From  the  centre  of  the  silver  bar 
stepped  forth  a  little  elf  with  a  shining  crown 
upon  his .  head ;  but  no  one  could  tell  whether 
the  crown  were  made  of  gold,  or  whether  it 
were  composed  of  living,  leaping  flames. 

The  little  elf-king  approached  the  boy's  bed, 
and  the  latter  immediately  recognized  the 
pretty  little  miner  who  had  given  him  the 
letter  in  the  graveyard.  And  as  Tony  was 
dcnbtfully  gazing  upon  the  elf,  his  form  sud- 
denly attained  the  full  height  of  a  grown  man, 
and  the  boy  at  once  recognized  the  pale,  hand- 
some miner  who  had  on  that  very  day  pointed 
out  to  him  the  Overseer's  house. 

"  Do  you  know  me,  then,  my  boy  ?  "  asked 
the  miner. 

"  Certainly,  O  certainly !  It  was  you  who 
were  so  kind  to  me,  and  I  had  already  thought 
of  coming  to  you  to  beg  work  and  bread." 

"  I  heard  your  wish,  although  yon  did  not 
speak  it  aloud,  but  I  could  not  grant  it  be- 
cause I  am  far  removed  from  the  sphere  of 


94 


THE   MOUNTAIN-ELF'S  GIFT. 


humanity,  and  only  occasionally  seen  by  men. 
Your  desolate  condition  has  excited  my  com- 
passion, for  children  bereft  of  their  parents  are 
much  more  exposed  to  all  the  dangers  and 
temptations  of  life  than  those  who  have  a 
father  and  mother  to  watch  over  them.  I 
will  take  care  of  you  so  long  as  you  deserve 
it,  so  long  as  you  continue  to  be  good  and 
pious,  and  carefully  follow  all  your  mother's 
instructions.  Even  when  you  do  not  see  me, 
you  must  not  despair  of  my  aid,  for  I  will  be 
so  near  you  that  I  can  divine  all  your  most 
secret  thoughts  and  wishes ;  therefore  beware 
lest  you  become  naughty,  and  forget  your 
God,  for  with  my  favor  you  lose  all  your 
good  fortune.  Be  patient  when  you  are 
harshly  treated,  forgiving  when  you  are  in- 
jured, and  strong  when  temptation  would  lure 
you  from  the  right  path !  You  human  beings 
all  have  an  inner  voice,  which  tells  you  when 
you  do  well,  and  warns  you  when  you  go 
astray.  That  voice  is  true  and  faithful,  and 
you  must  ever  heed  it. 

"  But  I  will  also  give  you  a  visible  guide, 
which  will  warn  and  protect  you ;  but  do 


tony's  friend. 


95 


not  weary  my  patience,  nor  that  of  the  mes- 
senger which  I  will  send  you  from  my  realms 
in  the  depths  of  the  earth.  Should  you  scorn 
his  warnings,  and  persevere  in  any  evil  from 
which  he  would  strive  to  deter  you,  you  lose 
my  aid  for  ever.  Farewell !  ere  the  moon  has 
twice  risen,  my  messenger  will  be  with  you  ; 
you  will  know  him  at  once,  and  you  must 
place  full  confidence  in  his  counsels. 

So  saying,  the  elf  bowed  and  laid  his  hands 
upon  the  boy's  eyes,  which  immediately  closed 
in  a  sweet  and  refreshing  slumber. 

When  Tony  awoke,  the  morning  sun  was 
shining  brightly  into  his  chamber,  which  was 
now  quite  empty  and  quiet.  lie  rose  and 
looked  timidly  round  him,  but  saw  nothing 
to  occasion  him  the  least  uneasiness.  lie 
thought  he  must  have  been  dreaming ;  but 
no !  every  word  spoken  by  the  elf  still  re- 
sounded in  his  ears.  Surely,  surely  his  kind 
protector  must  have  sent  him  the  letter,  that 
he  might  come  where  he  could  himself  guide 
and  watch  over  him. 

"  O  what  kind  of  a  messenger  will  he  send 
me  ?  "  cried  he  aloud. 


98 


THE   MOUNTAIN-ELF'S  GIFT. 


Of  course  he  received  no  answer. 

At  the  same  moment  he  heard  the  Over- 
seer's harsh  voice  resounding  below. 

He  quickly  dressed  himself,  and  went  down 
into  the  sitting-room  to  await  his  future  desti- 
nation ;  his  heart  beat  anxiously,  but  he  boldly 
entered  the  room  in  which  the  Overseer  with 
his  wife  and  child  sat  at  breakfast. 

"  Good  morning,  dear  godfather !  good  morn- 
ing, Mrs.  Steele!  God  bless  you,  Maggie!" 
said  Tony,  modestly. 

The  Overseer  muttered  something  behind 
his  beard,  which  no  one  understood ;  Mary 
kindly  responded  to  his  salutation  and  pointed 
him  to  a  chair ;  while  Maggie  sprang  upon  his 
knee. 

He  then  silently  drank  his  coffee. 

Finally  the    Overseer   began :    "  Did  you 

come  on  foot  from  L  ?" 

"  Yes,  godfather." 

"  And  have  you  left  your  uncle  ?  " 

"  Certainly ;  he  gave  me  permission  to  go." 

"  And  why  ?  " 

"  Because  he  thought  from  the  letter,  that 
you  had  kindly  invited  me." 


tony's  friend. 


97 


*  "  Silly  stuff  with  your  letter !  You  were  a 
fool  to  come  here  where  no  one  wants  you." 

The  blood  flushed  crimson  in  the  boy's 
cheeks ;  he  was  naturally  hasty  and  very  sensi- 
tive ;  but  Mistress  Mary's  eyes  so  kindly  im- 
plored him  to  be  patient,  thM  he  at  once  re- 
membered the  elf  s  advice,  and  quietly  replied : 
"  Alas !  there  surely  must  have  been  some 
mistake  concerning  the  letter  ;  but  since  I  have 
come  so  far,  my  good  godfather  will  perhaps 
be  kind  enough  to  tell  me  where  I  will  find 
work  and  bread." 

"  Indeed!  Work  and  bread?  That  sounds 
very  reasonable !  But  with  such  bragging  Tel- 
lows  the  words  are  generally  the  best  part, 
and  nothing  of  any  consequence  lies  behind 
them.    What,  then,  have  you  learned  ?  " 

"  Reading,  writing,  and  arithmetic,  the  cate- 
chism, and  singing." 

"  We  have  no  call  for  such  learning  in 
Laubbrunn,  and  your  wisdom  will  not  be 
of  the  least  use  to  me ;  but  would  you  like 
to  be  a  miner  ?  " 

"  O  yes  indeed!  most  gladly,  dear,  good 
godfather  !  "  cried  Tony,  joyfully. 


98 


THE   MOUNTAIN-ELF'S  GIFT. 


"  Well,  well,  you  need  not  be  so  hasty ;  we 
are  not  quite  so  far  yet.  Fair  and  softly !  —  if 
one  gives  you  a  finger,  you  take  the  whole 
hand.    Go  out  now,  and  feed  the  dogs." 

Tony  willingly  rose,  and  strove  to  win  the 
favor  of  the  powerful  pair  of  animals,  which 
however  only  set  their  teeth,  and  growled 
fiercely  upon  him.  They  utterly  refused  to 
follow  him,  and  growled  most  menacingly. 

"  Call  them  by  their  names,  —  Castor  and 
Pollux  ! "  said  Mary. 

The  boy  did  as  he  was  bidden,  but  the 
creatures  still  refused  to  follow;  they  rushed 
wildly  about  the  room,  and  made  such  a  terri- 
ble noise  that  the  Overseer  himself  seized  them 
by  the  ears,  .  and,  muttering  a  hasty  curse, 
turned  them  out  of  doors. 

"You  are  very  expert,  my  lad!"  said  he, 
scornfully. 

"  Pardon  me,  the  dogs  must  know  me  be- 
fore they  will  obey  me." 

"  Nonsense !  the  dogs  are  very  sensible,  and 
when  they  once  find  out  what  a  chicken- 
hearted  fellow  you  are,  they  will  never  fol- 
low you." 


tony's  friend. 


99 


Again  did  the  blood  rush  to  the  boy's  cheeks  ; 
but  fortunately  the  Overseer  immediately  con- 
tinued :  "  Get  ready,  then,  and  come  with  me 
to  the  mine,  where  you  may  learn  your  busi- 
ness ;  but  quick,  I  cannot  wait !  " 

It  was  a  charming  summer  day ;  around  the 
mysterious  spring  stood  a  group  of  laughing 
and  chattering  young  girls,  washing  greens, 
and  filling  their  buckets  with  the  clear  water. 

The  Overseer  walked  on  in  silence,  and  so 
rapidly,  that  Tony  was  forced  to  run  to  keep 
pace  with  him. 

The  mine  was  soon  reached,  and  our  good 
Tony  trembled  a  little  as  he  looked  down  into 
the  gloomy  shaft  which  lay  before  him,  like  a 
deep,  black  grave. 

At  the  entrance  of  the  mine  stood  a  number 
of  miners,  engaged  in  drawing  up  immense 
chests  and  barrels  attached  to  huge  ropes. 
Their  cheerful  voices  could  be  heard  from  a 
great  distance ;  but  as  soon  as  they  saw  the 
gloomy  Overseer  coming,  they  became  silent, 
lifted  their  caps  from  then*  heads,  and  made 
their  usual  salutation :  "  Good  luck !  " 

The  Overseer  made  no  reply,  but  examined 


100 


THE   MOUNTAIN-ELF'S  GIFT. 


the  works,  and  seemed  to  take  real  delight  in 
finding  all  the  fault  possible,  in  the  loudest 
and  most  disagreeable  tone  of  voice. 

"  Where  is  Rupert  ?  "  asked  he. 

An  old  miner  stepped  forth,  the  same  kind 
old  man  who  had  so  often  brought  Maggie 
pretty  stones  from  the  mine;  he  asked  the 
Overseer  for  his  commands. 

"  You  must  teach  this  young  lad,  Rupert. 
Take1  him  down  into  the  shaft,  give  him  a  min- 
ing suit,  and  show  him  what  he  has  to  do. 
He  is  a  very  saucy  fellow,  so  that  you  must 
hold  him  tight,  and  especially  must  you  ad- 
minister plenty  of  wholesome  correction." 

So  saying,  the  Overseer  departed. 

"  Well,  my  lad,  were  you  ever  a  miner  ? " 
asked  the  old  man. 

"  No,  dear  sir  !  " 

"  Were  you  never  down  a  shaft  ?  " 
«  Never ! " 

"  By  all  the  elements  !  you  must  take  cour- 
age, then,  for  I  tell  you  it  is  not  very  charming 
down  below  there  ;  you  will  see  neither  sun 
nor  moon,  only  gray  stones,  with  here  and 
there  a  silver  vein,  which  must  be  hammered 


tony's  friend. 


101 


out.  There,  put  on  the  blouse  and  the  cap ;  I 
will  hold  your  light  for  you  until  we  reach  the 
bottom.    Now,  —  are  you  ready  ?  " 

Tony  assented  ;  Rupert  led  him  to  the  mine 
and  told  him  to  descend  the  rungs  of  the  lad- 
der which  he  saw  before  him.  "  Take  good 
care !  I  will  go  before  ;  when  we  have  gone 
down  twelve  steps,  the  ladder  ends,  and  we 
must  get  into  a  large  box,  suspended  by  ropes, 
■  while  the  miners  above  will  wind  us  down  un- 
til we  again  reach  solid  ground." 

And  so  it  was.  The  daylight  soon  vanished. 
Tony's  heart  beat  loudly,  but  with  Rupert's 
assistance  he  courageously  stepped  into  the 
swinging  box  which  hung  at  the  foot  of  the 
ladder.  They  had  scarcely  entered  when  the 
ropes  began  to  move,  and  the  box  slowly  sunk 
into  the  dark  chasm. 

"  Does  your  heart  beat,  my  lad  ? "  asked 
Rupert,  laughing ;  "  well,  have  patience,  we 
will  soon  be  down ! " 

As  soon  as  the  airy  equipage  touched  the 
bottom  of  the  mine,  the  pair  left  it.  Tony 
looked  round  curiously,  but  it  was  some  time 
before  he  could  distinguish  anything  through 


102 


THE   MOUNTAIN-ELF'S  GIFT. 


the  darkness.  His  eyes  finally  became  accus- 
tomed to  the  want  of  light,  and  he  found  him- 
self amid  a  mass  of  rocks  piled  up  in  fantastic 
hillocks  of  various  sizes,  between  which  the 
miners  wandered  like  dark  shadows,  each 
bearing  a  small  lantern,  or  stood,  and  with 
great  exertions  hammered  or  dug  out  the  sil- 
ver, which  was  here  plentifully  distributed  in 
small  veins  through  the  gray  rock. 

The  old  man  placed  himself  before  a  block 
of  stone,  and  bade  the  boy  follow  his  example. 
He  then  began  to  strike  upon  the  stone,  and 
Tony  did  likewise.  The  latter  was  at  first 
very  unskilful ;  the  spade  and  hammer  were 
heavy  and  unwieldy,  and  the  boy's  arm  was 
soon  so  tired  with  the  unusual  labor,  that  he 
could  scarcely  lift  it. 

Rupert  was  good-natured,  but  rough ;  he 
often  blustered  very  noisily,  called  the  boy 
awkward  and  spoiled,  and  told  him  over  and 
over  again,  that  it  needed  something^  more 
than  a  handsome  face  and  delicate  hands  to 
make  a  good  miner. 

"  Only  have  patience  with  me,  I  will  soon 
do  better,"  said  Tony,  gently. 


tony's  friend. 


103 


"  I  believe  so,  my  lad ;  but  apropos,  how 
did  the  Overseer  come  to  take  you  ?  It  was 
contrary  to  his  usual  fashion,  I  can  tell  you ! " 

"  O,  he  has  been  very  kind  to  me,  because 
he  is  my  godfather." 

"  Aha ! " 

This  was  the  only  outward  expression  which 
Rupert  permitted  to  his  thoughts.  He  could 
not  but  wonder  at  the  conduct  of  the  Over- 
seer, whom  he  had  never  before  known  to  com- 
mit a  generous  action. 

After  a  long  pause  he  continued  :  "  If  you 
never  were  in  a  mine  before,  you  cannot 
be  aware  of  all  the  dangers  surrounding 
us.  No  ?  You  know  nothing  of  them  ? 
You  see,  my  lad,  you  ought  to  have  con- 
sidered all  that  before  you  came  among  us ! 
And  I  tell  you,  now,  that  we  miners  have 
especial  need  to  recommend  our  souls  every 
morning  to  the  protection  of  Heaven,  for  we 
know  not  when  we  enter  the  mine  whether 
we  will  ever  see  the  daylight  again  or  not. 
The  whole  hill  is  filled  with  hidden  water- 
courses, which  sometimes  burst  their  granite 
bonds  and  fill  a  large  portion  of  the  shaft  with 


104 


THE    MOUNTAIN-ELF'S  GIFT. 


water.  The  danger  is  then  very  great,  and  if 
God  did  not  graciously  watch  over  our  safety, 
we  could  not  endure  the  constant  anxiety. 
The  deeper  we  are  in  the  mine,  the  greater  is 
the  danger,  and  therefore  they  who  work  be- 
low must  be  especially  careful.  They  know 
well  all  the  tokens  of  approaching  peril,  and 
sound  the  alarm-bells  ;  so  that  if  you  should 
hear  a  monotonous  '  Bim,  bim,'  sounding  from 
below,  you  must  hasten  to  a  ladder  and  go  up 
as  fast  as  you  can.  If  you  do  so  in  time,  you 
may  escape  the  danger ;  I  tell  you  this  that 
you  may  be  upon  your  guard,  for  I  feel  really 
sorry  to  think  how  ignorantly  you  have  en- 
tered upon  the  laborious  calling  of  a  miner." 

Tony  listened  attentively ;  but  he  was  a  bold 
boy,  and  the  danger  did  not  seem  to  him  so 
very  great,  after  all. 

At  the  end  of  a  half-hour,  Rupert  slipped 
softly  away,  probably  to  try  the  boy's  courage, 
and  see  if  he  would  not  be  afraid  in  such  a 
solitary  place ;  for  it  was  so  dark  in  the  mine, 
that  he  could  only  recognize  the  distant  work- 
men by  their  lights,  which  wandered  like  shin- 
ing spirits  through  the  gloom  whenever  the 
miners  changed  their  places. 


tony's  friend. 


105 


Tony  scarcely  observed  that  he  was  alone  ; 
he  struck  his  hammer  with  all  his  little  might 
upon  the  stone,  and  suddenly,  to  his  great  de- 
light, saw  a  gleaming  silver  vein  shining  like 
a  bright  ribbon  through  the  rock.  "  Ah,  that 
is  silver ! "  cried  he,  joyfully.  "  Rupert,  dear 
Rupert,  look  what  a  treasure  I  have  found  ! " 

But  Rupert  was  not  there. 

The  boy  looked  round  in  astonishment,  and 
when  he  found  himself  alone,  began  to  pound 
the  stone  with  as  much  force  as  if  he  had  been 
an  experienced  miner.  The  rock  suddenly  di- 
vided, the  silver  vein  slowly  lengthened,  dis- 
playing the  most  brilliant  colors,  and  trickled 
like  a  murmuring  brook,  on  which  a  bright  sun 
is  shining,  forth  from  the  rock.  Now  it  seemed 
blue,  now  red,  and  again  glittering  with  all  the 
colors  of  the  rainbow  ;  it  appeared  by  turns  as 
flowing  water  and  as  solid  metal.  Through  the 
rustling  and  murmuring  the  boy  fancied  he 
could  distinguish  voices,  and  even  singing;  and 
his  breath  almost  stopped  when  he  finally  dis- 
tinctly heard  words  which  he  was  sure  he  had 
heard  before  in  a  dream  :  — 


106 


THE   MOUNTAIN-ELF'S  GIFT. 


"  In  the  mine  dark  and  deep, 

Bright  treasures  we  keep, 
And  guard  them  with  unceasing  care  ! 
Of  crystals  the  whitest, 
Of  metals  the  brightest, 
Down  in  the  deep, 
How  they  peacefully  sleep, 
Those  treasures  of  earth,  rieh  and  rare  ! 

"  Whom  the  spirits  would  serve, 
They  lead  him  below ; 
As  he  may  deserve, 

Their  gifts  they  bestow. 
Through  the  darkness  of  night 

We  '11  lead  him  below, 
And  dazzle  his  sight 

With  the  glorious  show 
Of  the  treasures  we  keep 
In  the  mine  dark  and  deep, 
Of  the  treasures  of  earth,  rich  and  rare ! 
Good  luck ! " 

Tony  gazed  intently  upon  the  rock,  and 
every  moment  expected  to  see  the  figures  of 
the  elves  and  gnomes ;  but  he  was  disappoint- 
ed, they  did  not  appear.  The  glittering,  many- 
colored  stream,  however,  suddenly  took  an- 
other form,  and  before  the  boy  could  tell  how 
it  all  happened,  its  place  was  occupied  by  a 
beautiful  crimson  macaw,  with  a  golden  top- 


THE  MERRY  TUNC  E RS 


tony's  friend. 


107 


knot  on  his  head.  The  bird  had  a  long  tail 
like  a  bird  of  paradise,  and,  strange  to  say,  all 
his  plumage  seemed  made  of  colored  crystals 
or  pearls,  and  not  of  feathers,  like  that  of  ordi- 
nary birds. 

The  boy  stepped  back  in  amazement. 

The  bird  then  began  to  speak :  "  Be  not 
afraid,  I  belong  to  you ;  I  am  the  guide  prom- 
ised you  by  the  elf-king;  place  me  on  your 
shoulder  that  I  may  be  quite  near  to  you." 

The  bird's  voice  sounded  soft  and  melodi- 
ous, like  a  hymn. 

Tony  took  heart,  and  lifted  the  bird  from  the 
rock  ;  the  macaw's  plumage  was  smooth  and 
cold  as  crystal.  Tony  had  no  sooner  placed 
him  on  his  shoulder,  than  he  caressingly  laid 
his  little  head  against  the  boy's  cheek. 

At  that  moment  Rupert  returned. 

"  Come,  my  lad,"  said  he,  "  you  might  have 
made  better  use  of  your  time,  instead  of  stand- 
ing there  so  idle  and  lazy,  as  if  you  had  al- 
ready performed  wonders  of  industry !  Come, 
work  away ! " 

Tony  hastily  stooped,  lifted  his  hammer,  and 
wondered  not  a  little  that  the  old  man  did  not 
seem  to  perceive  the  bird. 


108 


THE   MOUNTAIN-ELF'S  GIFT. 


"  Tell  me,  my  lad,"  said  Rupert,  mysteri- 
ously, "  have  you  seen  nothing  since  I  went 
away  ?  " 

Tony  gave  him  a  doubtful  glance. 

"  Now  you  must  understand  what  I  mean  ; 
we  miners  have  a  tradition  that  little  gnomes 
and  elves  live  down  here  below.  The  depths 
of  the  earth  —  so  people  say  —  are  their  espe- 
cial property,  and  as  they  are  very  angry  with 
men  for  intruding  into  their  domains  and  car- 
rying off  their  treasures,  they  play  all  sorts  of 
mad  tricks  to  hinder  and  torment  them.  It  is 
also  believed,  that  where  the  elves  are,  three 
little  flames  like  jack-a-lanterns  seem  to  spring 
out  of  the  rock,  and  that  one  may  be  quite 
sure  when  those  three  flames  are  seen  that  the 
mischievous  little  creatures  have  been  at  some 
deviltry.  Well,  just  as  I  was  coming  to  you, 
I  suddenly  saw  the  three  flames  waving  above 
you,  and  the  elves  must  certainly  have  been 
here  ;  did  you  see  nothing  ?  " 

The  old  man  gazed  searchingly  upon  the 
boy,  who  blushed  scarlet,  and  replied,  stam- 
mering with  embarrassment :  "  No,  not  the 
least  thing ! " 


Tony's  friend. 


109 


"  You  lie,  Tony,  you  lie !  "  cried  the  macaw, 
in  a  harsh,  croaking  voice. 

The  boy  shuddered,  and  looked  appalled. 

"  Come,  come,  what  frightens  you  so  ? " 
continued  Rupert. 

"  Why,  why  —  " 

"  Come,  tell  the  truth,  my  lad;  is  it  not  true 

that  you  do  not  believe  in  elves  ?  " 
"  No  —  yes  —  that  is  —  I  think  —  " 
"  Tony,  do  not  deny  your  friend ;  none  but 

cowards  do  so ! "  cried  the  red  bird,  in  shrill 

tones. 

The  boy  had  by  this  time  recovered  himself, 
and  said  steadfastly  and  openly  :  "  I  certainly 
believe  that  there  may  be  such  friendly  little 
elves,  who  will  do  us  no  harm,  that  is,  if  we 
are  good,  and  never  disturb  them  !  " 

"  Bravo,  Tony,  bravo  !  "  laughed  the  bird. 

It  was  very  strange  that  Rupert  did  not  hear 
a  single  word  of  all  the  bird  said,  especially  as 
he  spoke  in  tones  so  loud  that  they  were 
echoed  and  re-echoed  from  the  rocks. 

A  short  time  after,  the  noon-bell  rang,  and 
the  miners  had  a  short  respite  from  their  wea- 
risome labor. 


CHAPTER  II. 


tony's  friend  leaves  him. 

Many  months  had  passed  since  Tony's  first 
arrival  at  Laubbrunn.  Summer  and  Autumn 
had  gone,  and  Winter  now  "eigned,  with  his 
short,  melancholy  days,  and  long,  tedious 
nights. 

The  boy's  life  in  the  Overseer's  house  was 
often  very  miserable,  and  had  it  not  been  for 
Mrs.  Steele  and  dear  little  Maggie,  he  would 
often  have  found  it  almost  impossible  to  en- 
dure. The  Overseer's  gloomy  tyranny,  his 
ungovernable  temper  and  avarice,  rendered 
life  under  his  roof  a  real  torment.  Mary  was 
patient  and  gentle  as  an  angel,  and  Maggie, 
with  her  lively,  childish  ways,  rarely  failed  to 
win  a  kind  glance  from  her  stern  father ;  but 
Tony  was  forced  to  bear  the  full  weight  of  his 
wrathful  caprices. 


tony's  friend  leaves  him. 


Ill 


He  did  not  love  the  child,  and  had  long 
before  repented  having  received  him  into  his 
house,  although  Tony  was  so  industrious  that 
he  fully  earned  the  little  he  ate.  He  had  soon 
been  forced  to  leave  his  pretty  room  near  the 
spring  that  so  mysteriously  murmured  through 
the  darkness  of  the  night.  Notwithstanding 
all  Mary's  entreaties,  he  was  now  forced  k  to 
sleep  in  a  miserable  closet  in  the  garret. 

Tony  was  naturally  a  good-natured  boy, 
but  he  had  many  faults,  among  which  the 
chief  was  a  certain  hastiness  of  disposition ; 
he  readily  became  excited,  and  was  very 
touchy,  and  could  not  bear  the  least  blame. 
It  was  consequently  a  very  hard  trial  to  be 
forced  to  listen  submissively  to  all  the  scolding 
and  insults  of  an  unjust  man. 

How  often  did  the  warning  voice  of  the 
strange  bird  resound  in  his  ear,  saying : 
"  Patience,  Tony,  patience !  He  is  no  good 
boy  who  cannot  overcome  his  faults." 

And  when  the  boy  would  reply :  "  But  I 
meet  with  so  much  injustice !  I  am  only  hasty 
or  stubborn  because  I  am  misused,  and  would 
be  very  good  and  patient  if  I  were  only  kindly 


112      *       THE  MOUNTAIN-ELF'S  GIFT. 

treated ! "  the  bird  would  answer :  "It  is  pre- 
cisely because  you  are  tempted,  that  you  must 
stand  firm ;  your  virtue,  to  be  real,  must  bear 
the  test  of  trial,  and  if  you  are  submissive  to 
gentle  Mrs.  Steele,  you  deserve  no  praise ; 
you  cannot  esteem  yourself  to  possess  any 
virtue,  until  that  virtue  has  been  tried ! " 

And  this,  my  dear  young  reader,  is  a  truth, 
and  what  the  bird  says  in  the  legend  may  be 
useful  to  us  all  in  our  actual  and  daily  life. 

It  was  not  strange  that  Tony  should  be 
mild  and  obliging  towards  Mary,  Maggie, 
and  even  Rupert;  for  they  were  all  so  kind, 
never  saying  a  single  word  which  could  hurt 
his  feelings,  that  he  must  have  been  very  bad 
indeed  had  he  failed  to  requite  their  goodness. 

When  he  was  first  received  into  his  god- 
father's house,  he  was  enchanted  to  have 
found  an  asylum,  and  his  thanks  for  the 
slightest  favor  were  warm  and  deep,  for  he 
had  already  experienced  hunger  and  want. 
But  later,  when  he  knew  that  he  earned  his 
bread  through  his  labor,  he  felt  a  sense  of 
wrong  and  oppression  when  the  Overseer 
dealt  harshly  with  him,  and  especially  when 


tony's  friend  leaves  him. 


113 


he  daily  repeated  that  he  only  kept  him  out 
of  charity. 

"  Ah,  were  it  not  for  Mrs.  Steele  and  Mag- 
gie, I  would  so  dearly  love  to  leave  this 
place ! "  would  he  often  say  to  himself ;  "  for 
the  good  elf  could  surely  find  me  elsewhere, 
and  my  faithful  birdie  would  not  desert  me." 

He  might  securely  Trust  in  this  last  hope, 
for  the  red  macaw  never  moved  a  step  away 
from  him ;  he  accompanied  him  down  into 
the  deep  mine,  patiently  sat  on  his  shoulder 
while  he  labored,  slept  at  the  head  of  his  bed, 
and  was  always  the  first  to  bid  him  "  Good 
morning!"  when  he  awoke.  If  the  boy  had 
been  patient  and  good  the  day  before,  the 
voice  sounded  clear  and  joyous ;  but  if  the 
bird  gave  him  no  greeting,  Tony  felt  quite 
sure  that  he  was  dissatisfied  with  his  con- 
duct. 

Tony  rose  very  early  in  the  morning,  long 
before  the  faintest  glimmering  of  dawn,  and 
joined  the  miners  at  the  hour  of  prayer,  when 
they  all  piously  recommended  themselves  to 
the  care  of  Heaven,  ere  they  proceeded  to 
their  dangerous  and  laborious  duties. 

8 


114 


THE   MOUNTAIN-ELF'S  GIFT, 


The  road  to  the  mine  was  generally  frozen 
hard,  and  covered  with  snow  and  ice,  «o  that 
the  poor  boy's  hands  and  feet  were  nearly 
frozen  before  he  reached  the  shaft.  He  was 
there  received  by  Rupert,  who  had  become  his 
best  friend,  and  who  bestowed  on  him  a  real 
fatherly  care  whenever  he  was  able  to  do  so  ; 
but  of  course  the  old  man's  powers  were  very 
limited,  and  his  only  aid  frequently  consisted 
in  some  merry  tale,  with  which  he  strove  to 
shorten  and  lighten  the  boy's  arduous  and 
monotonous  labor. 

It  was  really  peculiar  that  no  one  saw  the 
macaw,  or  heard  his  voice,  except  Tony  him- 
self. 

One  evening,  Tony  was  returning  very  late 
home  from  the  mine ;  he  was  alone,  and 
walked  slowly  and  wearily  over  the  crackling 
snow  which  sparkled  in  the  moonlight.  The 
red  bird  was  dancing  along  before  him,  beat- 
ing the  snow  with  his  wings,  and  softly  sing- 
ing. 

They  thus  approached  the  well,  where  all 
was  quiet  and  still ;  but  as  the  boy  and  his 
companion  were  about  passing  on,  there  sud- 


tony's  friend  leaves  him. 


115 


denly  rose  from  the  interior  of  the  basin  a 
multitude  of  strange,  mist-like  little  figures, 
with  flowing  white  beards,  and  trailing  gar- 
ments. Tony,  already  quite  well  acquainted 
with  these  strange  figures,  quickly  stepped 
nearer,  and  immediately  recognized  the  moun- 
tain-elves by  their  spades  and  hammers,  their 
pretty  miner's  caps,  and  their  golden  locks. 
The  bird  sat  on  the  edge  of  the  well,  bowed 
his  head  and  his  top-knot,  and  began  to  speak 
with  the  elves  in  some  strange  and  unknown 
tongue.  The  latter  danced  noiselessly  round 
the  brink  of  the  well,  nodded  to  the  boy,  and 
sang : — 

"  Beware  !  beware  ! 
This  night  a  snare 
Will  treason  dare  !  " 

These  same  words  were  continually  repeated, 
the  sounds  becoming  fainter  and  fainter,  until 
the  figures  had  entirely  vanished  into  the  dark- 
ness of  the  night,  or  had  melted  into  waving 
wreaths  of  thin  mist. 

"  I  do  not  know  what  you  mean,  you  good 
little  elves ! "  said  Tony. 

The  bird  then  repeated,  in  a  loud,  clear 
tone : — 


116  THE   MOUNTAIN-ELF'S  GIFT. 

u  Beware  !  beware ! 
This  night  a  snavc 
Will  treason  dare !  " 

Then  away  he  flew  to  the  Overseer's  house. 

Tony  found  his  godfather  sitting  in  the  lit- 
tle parlor.  His  face  was  flushed  and  heated, 
and  he  seemed  deeply  engrossed  with  various 
papers  and  accounts  lying  on  the  table  before 
him ;  from  time  to  time  he  groaned,  appar- 
ently with  impatience  and  vexation. 

u  Come  here,  lad,  and  help  me  with  my 
papers.  The  Superintendent  of  the  mines 
comes  to-morrow  to  look  over  the  accounts 
and  receipts,  and  collect  the  sums  due  from 
the  mines.    Sum  up  this  row  of  figures !  " 

The  boy  did  as  he  was  bid ;  he  had  formerly 
been  considered  a  very  good  arithmetician, 
and  his  industry  while  at  school  enabled  him 
to  aid  his  godfather  without  the  slightest 
difficulty. 

The  Overseer  paid  the  workmen  their  scanty 
wages  at  the  end  of  every  week ;  all  the  money 
that  the  mine  brought  in  passed  through  his 
hands,  and  once  every  year  he  was  obliged  to 
render  an  account  to  the  Superintendent  of  all 
he  had  received  and  all  he  had  disbursed. 


tony's  friend  leaves  him. 


117 


"  Well,  lad,  you  are  a  mighty  long  time 
counting  that  up,"  finally  growled  the  *  Over- 
seer, seeing  that  Tony  again  and  again  reck- 
oned up  the  sum,  but  showed  by  repeated  and 
ominous  shakes  of  the  head  that  all  was  not 
right. 

"  Look,  godfather !  there  is  some  mistake 
somewhere,''  replied  Tony ;  "  in  the  account 
the  income  is  stated  at  three  hundred  florins, 
but  there  are  only  two  hundred  and  fifty  in 
this  purse." 

M  That  is  very  strange,  hand  me  the  purse ; 
what  kind  of  money  is  it?"  asked  the  Over- 
seer. 

"  Gold-pieces,"  replied  the  boy,  reaching  out 
the  purse. 

The  old  man  put  out  his  hand,  but  not 
quite  far  enough,  so  that  the  purse  fell  be- 
tween them,  and  the  gold-pieces  rolled  over 
the  floor. 

"  Well,  don't  you  niean  to  pick  them  up  ?  " 
cried  the  Overseer;  "or  do  you  think,  per- 
haps, that  the  golden  foxes  will  pick  them- 
selves up  ?  " 

The  boy  got  down  on  his  hands  and  knees, 


118 


THE   MOUNTAIN-ELF'S  GIFT. 


gathered  up  the  gold,  which  had  rolled  in  every 
direction,  and  counted  it  out  upon  the  table  ; 
there  were  two  hundred  and  fifty  florins. 

"  Fifty  florins  are  wanting!  "  cried  the  Over- 
seer, in  a  harsh  tone ;  "  get  down  and  look  for 
them ! " 

"  I  have  already  told  you,  godfather,  that  the 
fifty  florins  were  wanting  before  the  money  fell 
on  the  floor." 

"  Nonsense  !  None  of  your  excuses  !  Who 
knows  where  you  may  have  hidden  the  money, 
you  rascal !  There  were  exactly  three  hundred 
florins !  " 

"  But,  dear  godfather,  what  do  you  mean  ?  I 
do  not  understand  you,"  replied  the  bewildered 
boy.  "  I  tell  you  there  were  only  two  hundred 
and  fifty  florins  in  the  purse  before  it  fell ;  don't 
you  remember,  you  told  me  to  hand  it  to  you 
that  you  might  see  for  yourself  ?  " 

"  Be  quiet !  Leave  your  nonsense ;  it  will 
do  you  no  good  here !  J  tell  you,  there  were 
three  hundred  florins  in  the  purse,  and  not  one 
penny  less  ;  and  whatever  is  wanting  now,  I 
must  search  you  for,  my  lad ;  for  while  you 
were  creeping  like  a  crab  over  the  floor,  you 


tony's  friend  leaves  him, 


119 


might  easily  have  let  four  or  five  gold  pieces 
wander  into  your  own  pockets." 

Tony  was  so  angry  at  such  an  imputation 
that  he  could  not  speak  a  word.  This  was 
indeed  too  much  to  bear !  What  the  Over- 
seer meant  by  such  an  unreasonable  suspicion 
Tony  could  not  divine,  but  he  felt  that  some 
terrible  misfortune  was  now  in  store  for  him. 
He  had  counted  the  money  three  times  before 
the  purse  fell,  and  each  time  the  fifty  florins 
were  missing ;  he  had  told  this  to  the  Over- 
seer, who,  notwithstanding,  had  accused  him 
of  having  taken  them,  and  who  now  ap- 
proached him  for  the  purpose  of  searching 
his  pockets. 

"  Do  not  touch  me,  godfather ! "  cried  the 
boy,  now  thoroughly  aroused ;  "  there  will  be 
some  harm  done  if  you  touch  me  !  " 

"  Aha !  Is  it  so,  lad  ?  does  your  guilty  con- 
science torment  you  already  ?  Why  will  you 
not  show  me  your  pockets  ?  " 

"  Because  you  have  expressed  a  dishonora- 
ble and  shameful  suspicion,  which  I  am  sure 
you  do  not  believe  yourself '  " 

The  Overseer  laughed  contemptuously,  and 


120         the  mountain-elf's  gift. 

came  still  nearer  to  the  indignant  boy,  who 
had  assumed  so  bold  and  defiant  a  mien,  that, 
however  strong  the  old  man  might  be,  it 
seemed  more  prudent  for  him  to  consider  a 
moment  before  he  entered  into  an  actual 
struggle. 

At  that  instant  a  post-coach  was  heard  driv- 
ing over  the  crackling  snow,  and  a  few  mo- 
ments after,  it  stopped  before  the  door. 

The  Overseer  grew  deathly  pale,  turned 
away  from  the  boy,  and  threw  papers,  bills, 
and  money  into  an  open  closet,  which  he  has- 
tily locked,  putting  the  key  in  his  pocket. 

He  had  scarcely  done  so  when  a  tall,  slender 
man,  enveloped  in  a  fur  cloak,  entered  ;  it  was 
the  Superintendent,  who  had  come  sooner 
than  he  had  been  expected. 

The  Overseer  made  an  endless  number  of 
bows,  relieved  the  stranger  of  his  hat  and 
cloak  with  his  own  hands,  bade  him  heartily 
welcome,  and  sent  Tony  to  tell  Mrs.  Steele  to 
prepare  a  good  supper  for  their  honored  guest. 

The  Superintendent,  a  friendly  gentleman, 
soon  made  himself  very  comfortable  ;  the  warm 
room  was  very  pleasant  after  so  long  and  cold 


tony's  friend  leaves  him. 


121 


a  drive,  and  the  sofa-cushions,  on  which  he 
stretched  himself  out,  afforded  a  grateful  re- 
pose to  his  weary  limbs. 

As  the  boy  left  the  room,  the  stranger  said  : 
"  A  handsome  little  fellow !  Is  he  a  relative 
of  yours  ?  " 

"  No,  God  be  praised ! "  replied  the  hypo- 
critical Overseer. 

"  Why  so  ?  Is  the  boy  not  good  ?  He  looks 
so  candid  and  upright !  " 

"  All  a  mask,  nothing  but  a  mask,  gracious 
sir.  I  also  was  deceived  by  the  boy's  honest, 
plausible  appearance  ;  but  God  knows  how  I 
have  been  punished  for  my  confidence  !  " 

"Well,  how?" 

"  O,  he  is  a  sly  deceiver,  and  all  the  benefits 
which  I  have  showered  upon  him  during  many 
months  have  been  repaid  with  such  base  in- 
gratitude, that  he  has  actually  lied  to  me  and 
stolen  my  property." 

"  Ah !  may  you  not  be  mistaken  ?  " 

"  Certainly  not,  gracious  sir,"  said  the  Over- 
seer, who  then  related  several  stories  of  Tony, 
(pure  inventions,)  which  were  so  terrible  that 
the  Superintendent  indignantly  turned  away 


122         the  mountain-elf's  gift. 


his  head,  and  said  :  "  Why,  then,  do  you  toler- 
ate such  a  young  scapegrace  under  your  roof  ?  " 

"  Through  humanity,  gracious  sir ;  I  fear  the 
boy  would  come  to  some  bad  end  were  I  to 
turn  him  away,  and  as  he  is  my  godson — " 

"  Your  kindness  is  praiseworthy,  but  I  must 
warn  you ,  if  the  boy  is  really  as  bad  as  you 
represent  him,  you  must  use  severe  measures 
towards  him,  and  not  spoil  him  with  over- 
kindness  ;  you  owe  this  to  his  own  best  inter- 
ests. But  now  to  our  business.  You  know 
that  I  am  sent  by  the  government  to  examine 
into  the  income  of  the  mines,  and  to  compare 
it  with  the  accounts  and  receipts." 

"  I  know  it,  gracious  sir,"  replied  Steele, 
submissively,  "  and  if  you  wish,  we  can  begin 
at  once." 

"  What  are  you  dreaming  of?  I  have  driven 
twenty-four  miles  to-day,  over  your  hilly  roads, 
and  feel  mortally  weary  ;  to-morrow  will  be 
time  enough." 

The  Overseer  bowed,  and  once  more  breathed 
freely ;  for  my  dear  young  readers  will  readily 
understand  how  little  sincerity  was  in  his  last 
proposition. 


tony's  friend  leaves  him.  123 

The  guest  ate  his  supper,  and  soon  after  re- 
tired to  the  room  which  Mary  had  prepared  for 
him. 

Tony  stood  alone  in  his  gloomy  attic,  with 
burning  tears  of  bitterness  and  indignation 
rolling  down  his  flushed  cheeks.  And  yet  the 
poor  boy  had  not  heard  the  imputations  which 
the  wicked  Overseer  had  cast  upon  his  truth 
and  honesty  while  talking  with  the  Superin- 
tendent ,  had  he  done  so,  he  would  have  been 
really  desperate.  What  could  his  godfather 
mean  by  accusing  him  of  so  base  a  deed  ? 
The  boy  vainly  strove  to  divine  the  cause  of 
the  strange  proceeding,  and  meanwhile  walked 
up  and  down  his  room  in  a  state  of  great  ex- 
citement, stamping  with  his  feet,  and  sobbing 
as  if  he  had  lost  every  hope  in  the  world. 

The  red  bird,  Tony's  truest  friend,  sat  upon 
the  broken  window-sill,  gazed  a  long  time  with 
earnest  eyes  upon  the  excited  boy,  and  finally 
said,  in  gentle  tones :  "  Tony,  moderate  the 
violence  of  your  wrath ,  it  cannot  justify  you, 
and  can  do  you  no  good." 

The  boy  shuddered.    "  Nothing  can  do  me 


124 


THE  MOUNTAIN-ELF'S  GIFT. 


any  good  now,  for  all  is  lost  when  I  am  taken 
for  a  thief!" 

"  All  is  not  lost,  boy,  if  you  will  only  con- 
quer yourself,  and  govern  your  temper ;  con- 
sider the  whole  matter  quietly,  and  justify 
yourself  to-morrow  morning  to  the  Overseer, 
who  certainly  cannot  harbor  any  evil  inten- 
tions towards  you,  and  who  will  soon  be  con- 
vinced of  your  innocence." 

"  Harbor  no  evil  intentions  ?  "  cried  Tony, 
with  flashing  eyes ;  "  he,  the  Overseer  ?  O,  he 
has  the  worst  intentions  towards  me ;  he  is  a 
tyrannical,  violent  man,  without  one  spark  of 
good-feeling! " 

"  You  see  what  ugly  faults  anger  and  vio- 
lence are,  and  you  should  therefore  strive  to 
free  yourself  from  them  as  soon  as  possible ! " 
said  the  bird. 

But  Tony  was  too  indignant,  too  deeply 
imbittered,  to  listen  to  any  advice. 

"  I  will  leave  this  house  to-morrow,  at  the 
first  dawn  of  day!"  continued  he.  "I  was 
quite  as  happy  at  my  uncle's  as  I  have  been 
since  I  came  here,  and  there  was  no  need  for 
the  elf-king  to  bring  me  so  far,  only  to  make 
me  miserable ! " 


tony's  friend  leaves  him. 


125 


The  macaw's  eyes  flashed  fire  at  this  incon- 
siderate speech,  and  again  he  repeated  warn- 
ingly,  "Tony."' 

The  boy  started ;  but  he  was  now  blinded 
by  the  excess  of  the  dangerous  failings  which 
he  had  on  that  very  day  wilfully  encouraged, 
until  he  scarcely  recognized  himself, 

"  Tell  me,  then,"  cried  he,  in  loud  and  angry 
tones,  "  tell  me  what  I  have  gained  by  coming 
here!  Toil  and  labor  the  whole  day  long, 
constant  scolding  and  mean  food,  and  now 
this  last  accusation.  I  have  not  one  single 
friend,  for  you  only  ad\ise  and  blame,  and  no 
one  consoles  me!  No,  no,  the  mountain-elf 
has  done  me  no  good!" 

Scarcely  had  these  rash  words  left  his  lips, 
when  he  would  have  given  half  his  life  to 
recall  them.  The  whole  room  was  suddenly 
filled  with  leaping  yellow  flames,  which  danced 
upon  the  floor  and  walls,  and  every  moment 
became  more  fearful  and  threatening. 

The  boy  stood  near  the  window,  and  im- 
ploringly stretched  forth  his  hands  to  the  red 
bird ;  never  before  had  he  felt  so  awe-stricken, 
so  utterly  forsaken. 


126         the  mountain-elf's  gift. 

Then,  as  on  the  first  night  of  his  arrival,  the 
white  and  foaming  waves  gushed  through  his 
window ;  the  sparkling  stream  encircled  the 
macaw,  which  unfolded  his  shining  wings  and 
floated  on  the  surface  of  the  flood,  mournfully 
singing  the  following  words  :  — 

"  Farewell !  farewell ! 
Thou  bast  repelled 
Thy  truest  friend, 
Who  ever  held 
Thy  good  his  end ! 
Farewell !  " 

The  soft,  moaning  tones  had  scarcely  died 
away  when  the  bird's  form  began  to  grow 
more  and  more  indistinct,  until  at  length  noth- 
ing could  be  seen  but  a  faint  play  of  color, 
like  the  reflection  of  the  evening  red  in  a  clear 
river;  and  before  the  astonished  boy  had  re- 
covered from  his  first  surprise,  the  waves  had 
all  retreated  within  the  magic  well,  the  mys- 
terious flames  had  vanished,  and  all  was  still 
and  dark  around  him. 

O  how  sorry  poor  Tony  felt !  how  he  re- 
pented his  foolish  passion  !  Surely,  now  the 
elf-king  would  never  aid  him  again  !    Ah  !  he 


toxy's  friend  leaves  him,  127 


had  really  loved  the  red  bird  dearly,  for  he  well 
knew  how  kind  were  all  his  intentions ;  even 
when  the  faithful  monitor  angered  him,  his 
own  benefit  was  the  object  sought ! 

But  repentance  came  too  late ! 

He  no  longer  wept  from  rage,  but  from  bit- 
ter sorrow.  He  begged  and  implored  the  elf- 
king  to  send  him  back  his  guide ;  he  promised 
faithfully  that  he  would  conquer  himself,  and 
be  more  patient;  yes,  he  would  even  gently 
strive  to  convince  the  Overseer  that  his  sus- 
picion was  unfounded.  But  all  remained  si- 
lent and  motionless  round  the  desolate  boy. 

As  he  sadly  and  solitarily  stood  at  the  win- 
dow, he  suddenly  perceived  a  man  with  a 
hammer,  standing  beside  the  well.  He  looked 
more  keenly,  and  soon  recognized  the  Overseer, 
who  slowly  lifted  a  stone  from  its  place  in  the 
wall,  laid  a  small  purse  and  a  pocket-book  in 
the  cavity,  and  then  carefully  replaced  the 
stone  in  its'  former  position ;  this  done,  he 
slipped  softly  back  into  the  house. 

A  multitude  of  strange  thoughts  flashed  at 
once  through  Tony's  mind,  and  thus  much 
became  clear  to  him,  —  that  the  Overseer  feared 


128 


THE   MOUNTAIN-ELF'S  GIFT. 


the  examination  on  the  following  day,  and 
that  he  wished  to  conceal  some  papers  which 
he  dared  not  keep  in  the  house. 

"  O,"  suddenly  cried  Tony,  "  he  may  per- 
haps have  accused  me  because  he  has  himself 
misused  some  of  the  government  money  ! " 

This  supposition  was  certainly  very  near 
the  truth  ;  the  Overseer  had  been  very  neg- 
ligent in  his  stewardship  of  the  mine,  and  of 
course  had  every  reason  to  dread  an  exam- 
ination. 

It  was  almost  midnight. 

Tony's  head  wearily  sank  upon  the  window- 
sill,  and  his  eyes  closed  in  a  short,  unrefreshing 
slumber.  Now  he  heard  the  red  bird's  mourn- 
ful farewell,  now  he  fancied  he  could  distin- 
guish the  elf-king's  angry  voice,  and  again  did 
the  Overseer  yell  his  malicious  accusation  into 
his  ears.  His  heart  beat  anxiously,  his  pulse 
was  feverish,  and  great  drops  of  cold  sweat 
stood  upon  his  forehead.  He  suddenly  thought 
he  felt  some  one  shaking  him ;  he  opened  his 
eyes,  and  perceived  a  brilliant  stream  of  fiery 
light  flooding  his  room. 

He  threw  up  the  window,  and  saw  that  the 


tony's  friend  leaves  him.  129 


lower  story  of  the  house,  the  sitting-room,  was 
in  flames. 

"  Fire  !  Fire  !  Help  ! "  cried  he  loudly,  and 
then  rushed  down  the  steps. 

Below,  he  met  the  Overseer  raging  and 
storming  about.  Mary  and  Maggie  were  in 
safety  without,  the  servants  were  all  awake, 
and  the  neighbors  were  hastening  in  to  lend 
their  aid.  All  were  scolding,  hurrying,  and 
jostling  one  another  ;  the  Superintendent 
seemed  to  be  the  only  person  retaining  his 
senses. 

He  boldly  opened  the  door  of  the  burn- 
ing room,  and  called  out  to  the  Overseer: 
"  Where  are  the  government  papers  and  mon- 
ey, Steele  ?  " 

u  Yonder,  in  the  closet,  gracious  sir ! "  re- 
plied Steele,  without  approaching  any  nearer ; 
"  yonder,  near  the  chimney ! " 

A  rapid  glance  convinced  the  Superintend- 
ent that  a  heap  of  ashes  was  all  that  remained 
of  either  closet  or  papers. 

The  loss  was  considerable,  but  the  Super- 
intendent was  too  sensible  a  man  to  waste 
valuable  time  in  useless  repinings,  and  im- 

9 


130  the  mountain-elf's  gift. 

mediately  applied  himself  to  the  direction  of 
the  extinguishing  apparatus,  which,  on  account 
of  the  mine,  was  very  good  at  Laubbrunn; 
at  the  end  of  a  half-hour  the  fire  was  entirely 
quenched. 

The  Superintendent  then  cautiously  entered 
the  sitting-room,  which,  with  its  torn  carpets, 
charred  tables  and  furniture,  and  fluttering 
curtains,  looked  really  desolate.  The  reflective 
and  experienced  officer  could  not  free  himself 
from  a  very  serious  suspicion.  It  seemed 
strange  that  the  fire  should  have  broken  out 
in  the  closet ;  for  although  it  stood  very  near 
the  chimney,  yet  the  wainscoting  between  the 
chimney  and  the  closet  was  scarcely  burned  at 
all,  and  it  was  impossible  the  flames  could 
have  overleaped  this  space,  had  they  proceeded 
in  the  first  instance  from  the  fireplace. 

The  Superintendent  attentively  considered 
all  these  facts ,  could  it  be  possible  that  Steele 
had  dreaded  an  examination  into  his  papers, 
and  had  himself  destroyed  them  ?  Mr.  Von 
Behren,  the  Superintendent,  blamed  himself, 
however,  for  this  dreadful  suspicion ;  Steele 
had  hitherto  proved  himself  perfectly  trust- 


tony's  friend  leaves  him. 


131 


worthy,  and  it  seemed  unchristian  to  suspect 
him  now. 

As  Mr.  Von  Behren  still  stood  reflecting,  his 
eyes  wandered  towards  the  nearest  window, 
and  there  fell  upon  a  ball  of  thread  dipped  in 
sulphur,  and  several  matches. 

There  could  no  longer  be  any  doubt  that  the 
room  had  been  purposely  fired,  and  the  matches 
and  thread  forgotten  in  the  incendiary's  hasty 
retreat. 

At  that  moment  the  Overseer,  tortured  by 
his  guilty  conscience,  entered  the  room.  One 
look  convinced  him  that  he  was  betrayed,  and 
his  wicked  heart  inspired  him  to  throw  the 
blame  upon  another  before  he  was  himself 
accused. 

He  quickly  recovered  his  composure,  ap- 
proached Mr.  Von  Behren  with  a  mysterious 
air,  and  before  that  gentleman  had  time  to 
express  his  suspicions,  the  Overseer  said,  in 
firm  and  decided  tones :  "  Gracious  sir,  if  I 
am  not  very  much  deceived,  this  has  been 
the  work  of  an  incendiary." 

Mr.  Von  Behren  looked  up  in  astonishment, 
and,  without  giving  any  indication  of  his  own 


132 


THE   MOUNTAIN-ELF'S  GIFT. 


sentiments,  quietly  said :  "  Why  do  you  think 

so?" 

"  Because  it  is  strange  that  this  closet  should 
be  entirely  consumed  while  the  wainscoting 
is  so  little  injured  ;  the  fire  could  not  have 
arisen  in  the  closet  unless  some  one  had  pur- 
posely placed  combustible  matter  in  or  near 
it." 

The  Superintendent  gazed  a  moment  upon 
the  deceiver's  countenance ;  it  was  strange  that 
the  very  man  whom  -he  had  just  suspected 
should  be  the  first  to  utter  his  own  thoughts. 

"  You  make  a  heavy  charge  upon  some 
one,  Steele,"  said  Mr.  Von  Behren,  solemnly ; 
"  think  well  of  what  you  are  doing! " 

"  I  know  that,  but  I  also  know  that  I  am 
now  upon  the  right  track.  Your  lordship  will 
remember  that  I  complained  yesterday  of  the 
young  lad  —  my  godson  —  " 

"  Certainly  ;  well,  what  then  ?  " 

"  Why,  only  yesterday  I  missed  fifty  florins 
which  he  had  stolen  from  me  while  aiding  me 
with  my  accounts." 

"  Are  you  sure  of  that  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  I  found  them  in  his  clothes." 


tony's  friend  leaves  him. 


1-33 


"  Bat  what  could  have  induced  the  boy  to 
be  wicked  enough  to  set  fire  to  the  house  ?  " 

"  Revenge,  probably,  because  I  caught  him 
stealing,  and  also,  perhaps,  to  injure  me  with 
your  lordship." 

The  Overseer  continued  to  speak  upon  the 
same  subject  until  Mr.  Von  Behren's  suspi- 
cions were  quite  firmly  fastened  upon  Tony. 
Amongst  other  things,  he  said  that  at  the  first 
alarm  Tony  had  made  his  appearance  com- 
pletely dressed,  and  consequently  could  not 
*have  been  aroused  from  sleep  by  the  cry  of 
fire. 

Alas !  no  one  knew  how  Tony  had  sud- 
denly been  overcome  by  sleep  while  weeping 
for  his  lost  friend. 

Nothing  could  have  served  the  Overseer's 
purpose  better  than  the  fact  of  his  having 
maligned  his  little  godson  the  evening  before. 
The  Superintendent  commanded  the  chief 
magistrate  of  the  place  to  be  sent  for,  and 
the  boy  meanwhile  to  be  closely  imprisoned. 

When  Tony  finally  understood  what  it  all 
was  about,  he  seemed  actually  petrified  with 
terror.     His  rage  had  cooled  down ;  he  was 


134 


THE   MOUNTAIN-ELF'S  GIFT. 


dumb,  and  pale  as  death,  and  it  was  some 
moments  before  he  could  recover  himself  suf- 
ficiently to  ask :  "  And  who,  good  heavens ! 
who  deems  me  capable  of  such  a  crime  ?  " 

"  I,"  said  ths  Overseer.  "  I,  who  know  that 
you  can  both  lie  and  steal." 

Mary  and  Maggie  sobbed  aloud. 

But  Tony  now  recovered  his  self-possession ; 
the  blue  veins  in  his  forehead  suddenly  swelled, 
and  a  hot  glow  flushed  his  cheeks.  He  stepped 
directly  before  the  Overseer,  and  said,  firmly : 
"  Is  it  you,  my  godfather,  who  have  blackened 
my  character  ?  All  is  clear  then ;  for  what  care 
you  to  bring  ruin  on  a  poor  orphan  boy,  if  you 
can  only  justify  yourself?  I,  godfather,  have 
no  need  to  kindle  fires  in  order  to  destroy  dis- 
orderly papers  and  false  accounts,  —  but  you?" 

The  Overseer  was  outrageous,  and  seized 
the  boy  by  the  shoulder,  shaking  him  so  rough- 
ly that  he  groaned  aloud.  Nevertheless,  he 
boldly  continued :  "  You  need  not  all  look  so 
disconcerted,  as  if  I  had  lost  my  senses ;  if 
you  come  with  me  to  the  weil,  I  can  prove  the 
truth  of  my  assertion." 

The  Overseer  suddenly  became  as  white  as 
a  sheet. 


tony's  friend  leaves  him. 


135 


"  What  is  that  about  the  well  ?  "  cried  the 
Superintendent,  quickly. 

"  O,  there  are  some  papers  there  which  the 
Overseer  saved  from  the  fire,  and  hid  under  a 
stone." 

The  Overseer  could  no  longer  control  him- 
self. Mr.  Von  Behren  commanded  the  boy 
to  prove  his  assertion,  and  all  hastened  to  the 
well. 

Steele  followed  with  trembling  limbs.  It 
was  now  early  dawn  ;  a  cloudy,  melancholy 
winter's  day  added  to  the  gloom  which  already 
weighed  upon  the  spirits  of  all  present. 

Ere  Tony  reached  the  well,  Mrs.  Steele  ap- 
proached, and  whispered  in  imploring  tones  : 
"  Do  not  ruin  us,  Tony." 

The  poor  woman  had  divined  her  husband's 
guilt;  for  to  her,  who  knew  him  well,  he  al- 
ready looked  like  a  condemned  criminal. 

The  boy  started  at  the  sound  of  Mary's 
voice ;  his  tender  heart  was  deeply  touched. 
Maggie  also  hung  weeping  on  his  arm,  but  of 
course  the  little  girl  could  not  comprehend 
what  all  the  trouble  was  about. 

Tony  stood  hesitating  what  he  should  do ; 


136 


THE   MOUNTAIN-ELF'S  GIFT. 


but  now  he  could  not  screen  the  Overseer 
without  drawing  the  suspicion  of  all  upon 
himself. 

"  Well,  boy,  where  are  the  papers  ?  "  cried 
the  Superintendent. 

Tony  still  hesitated  ;  he  sought  Mary's  eyes 
with  an  imploring  glance,  which  plainly  said : 
"  Alas,  I  cannot  do  otherwise !  "  Mary  had 
turned  away,  sobbing. 

The  Superintendent  became  still  more  ur- 
gent ;  he  drew  the  boy  forward  and  said : 
"  Make  haste,  and  prove  what  you  have  said, 
or  we  will  think  you  have  told  us  a  falsehood, 
and  your  punishment  will  be  three  times  as 
severe." 

Tony  was  still  silent;  conflicting  feelings 
warred  in  his  bosom.  Were  he  to  proceed  no 
further,  all  the  blame  would  fall  upon  his  own 
head,  and  he  would  be  branded  as  a  thief;  but 
Mary  and  Maggie  would  be  saved,  and  the 
Overseer  would  continue  as  before  in  his 
present  position. 

The  sacrifice  was  too  great,  The  Overseer 
had  too  bitterly  tormented  and  belied  him ; 
Tony  could  not  forgive  and  suffer  for  his  ene- 


tony's  friend  leaves  him.  137 

my;  that  seemed  to  him  too  much  for  any 
one  to  ask. 

A  moment  after,  he  lifted  the  loose  stone 
from  its  place  in  the  wall.  But,  wonderful  to 
relate !  in  the  cavity  lay  some  loose  pebbles 
and  an  old  miner's  cap. 

A  strange  sound,  as  of  foaming  waters,  was 
heard  below  in  the  well;  mocking  laughter 
fell  upon  the  boy's  ears,  and  he  could  not  mis- 
take the  soft  and  melancholy  tones  of  a  voice, 
saying :  — 

I    "  Farewell !  farewell ! 
Thou  hast  repelled 
Thy  truest  friend, 
Who  ever  held 
Thy  good  his  end !  ' 
Farewell !  " 

The  boy's  uplifted  arms  fell  powerless  at  his 
side  ;  he  felt  that  his  friends,  the  elves,  had 
entirely  forsaken  him,  and  that  they  had  de- 
stroyed his  proofs  in  order  to  ruin  him. 

"  Are  those  your  proofs  ?  "  asked  the  Super- 
intendent, indignantly. 

The  boy  was  silent. 

The  next  moment  he  was  taken  to  prison, 


138  the  mountain-elf's  gift. 

and  the  Overseer,  with  many  apologies  and 
expressions  of  esteem,  led  back  to  his  house. 

But  Steele  himself  was  still  pale  and  anx- 
ious ;  he  divined  that  some  strange  hand  had 
interfered  in  his  affairs ;  for  he  knew  too  well 
that,  in  the  very  spot  where  the  cap  and  pebbles 
lay,  he  had  only  a  few  hours  before  placed 
money  and  papers  which  he  had  intended  to 
keep  for  himself. 


CHAPTER  III. 

tony's  friend  returns. 

Many  days  and  many  nights  had  passed 
away.  Tony  was  still  a  captive  in  the  gloomy 
prison  at  Laubbrnnn,  and  seemed  to  have 
been  entirely  forgotten  by  his  judges  ;  he  was 
not  called  up  for  trial.  One  endless  day  passed 
after  another,  and  he  never  saw  the  light  of  a 
human  countenance.  Every  morning  he  found 
bread  and  water  standing  by  his  bedside,  but 
he  never  beheld  the  hand  that  brought  them. 
Poor  boy !  How  desolate  he  felt,  how  utter- 
ly forsaken ! 

During  the  first  few  days  he  was  depressed 
and  quiet,  he  then  became  impatient,  and 
finally  outrageous  with  passion  ;  he  shook  the 
door  until  the  bolts  rattled  loudly,  but  no  one 
came  to  his  aid.    He  sometimes  thought  that 


140 


THE   MOUNTAIN-ELF'S  GIFT. 


all  this  might  only  be  a  trial  on  the  part  of  the 
elf-king  ;  but  he  felt  too  bitterly  to  allow  him- 
self to  dwell  upon  this  possibility.  He  was 
angry  with  his  former  friend,  and  thought  of 
him  only  with  unkind  feelings.  Misfortune 
had  thus  far  exercised  no  beneficial  influence 
upon  Tony's  disposition,  and  he  now  especially 
needed  a  friend  who  would  advise  him  to  pa- 
tience and  resignation.  For  my  dear  reader 
will  doubtless  have  learned  long  ago,  that  no 
suffering,  of  whatever  kind  it  may  be,  can  be 
relieved  by  impatience.  On  the  contrary,  we 
always  feel  it  doubly  when  we  refuse  to  be 
pliant  and  submissive. 

How  did  it  benefit  Tony  that  he  always 
thought  more  and  more  angrily  and  unforgiv- 
ingiy  of  the  Overseer,  and  that  he  continually 
renewed  in  his  mind  the  image  of  the  wrongs 
and  injustice  he  had  endured  ?  All  this  did  him 
no  good ;  it  did  not  render  him  more  contented, 
and  in  no  degree  diminished  the  evils  of  his 
actual  condition,  and  yet  it  was  quite  certain 
that  his  outraged  friends  would  only  again 
aid  him  when  he  really  deserved  their  assist- 
ance. 


tony's  friend  returns.  141 


He  had  no  desire  to  think  of  Mary  and 
Maggie. 

One  evening  he  stood  by  the  narrow  win- 
dow of  his  cell,  and  leaned  his  hot  cheek 
against  the  iron  lattice.  He  looked  out  into 
the  dim  twilight,  and  only  indistinctly  per- 
ceived in  the  far  distance  the  mysterious  well. 
Then  sorrow  and  longing  suddenly  filled  his 
heart,  all  rancor  vanished,  and  he  sighed  as  he 
said,  with  tears  in  his  eyes :  "  O  if  I  could 
only  see  my  dear  little  birdie  once  more !  He 
was  indeed  a  true  friend  ! " 

All  at  once  he  thought  he  heard  a  voice  as- 
cending from  below;  he  forced  his  head  through 
the  iron  bars,  to  look  down.  He  saw  nothing, 
but  what  was  his  amazement  to  find  that  one 
of  the  bars  was  broken,  and  moved  to  one  side. 
He  shook  it  forcibly  with  both  hands,  and  lo  ! 
the  iron  bar  fell  to  the  ground. 

Tony  was  wild  with  joy,  for  the  opening 
was  quite  large  enough  to  suffer  his  slight 
figure  to  pass  through.  He  examined  the 
height,  which  he  found  to  be  about  seven  feet 
from  the  ground ;  the  earth  was  still  covered 
with  a  soft  coating  of  snow.    He  jumped  out, 


142         the  mountain-elf's  gift. 

and  a  moment  after  lay  below.  His  lips  bled, 
and  he  was  otherwise  slightly  bruised :  he  had 
fallen  upon  a  sharp  stone ;  but  he  cared  little 
for  such  petty  scratches,  for  he  was  at  length 
free. 

He  thankfully  lifted  his  hands  to  the  cloudy 
heavens,  which  hung  over  the  landscape  like  a 
gray  pall.  His  heart  beat  lightly  and  joyfully, 
and  he  hastened  through  the  snow-covered 
fields,  as  if  he  had  been  pursued  by  a  host  of 
enemies. 

He  hurried  on  during  several  hours.  A 
heavy  snow-storm  finally  impeded  his  ad- 
vance ;  the  thick  flakes  fell  like  needles  upon 
his  unprotected  face  and  head.  He  was  lightly 
clothed,  and  trembled  like  an  aspen-leaf  in  the 
night- wind ;  his  hair  hung  wet  and  icy  cold 
over  his  beating  temples. 

"  I  must  rest ! "  cried  he,  finally  exhausted. 
But  far  or  near  no  shelter  could  he  see  ;  above 
him  rose  the  bare,  giant  branches  of  the  leaf- 
less trees,  and  all  the  bushes  were  covered 
with  icicles,  which  tore  the  poor  boy's  hands. 
Alas !  this  was  no  happy  state  of  freedom ! 

He  struggled  with  his  excessive  fatigue,  but 


tony's  friend  returns.  143 


did  not  know  that  sleeping  on  the  cold  snow 
might  cause  his  death.  He  finally  sank  upon 
the  ground,  and  after  a  few  moments  slum- 
bered soundly. 

When  he  again  opened  his  eyes,  he  thought 
he  must  be  under  the  influence  of  some 
heavenly  dream,  so  peaceful  and  happy  was 
all  around  him. 

His  weary  limbs  reposed  upon  a  soft  couch, 
and  snow-white  pillows  supported  his  head. 
Around  the  bed  hung  ample  curtains  of  white 
muslin,  and  the  bright  flames  in  the  chimney- 
place  threw  waving,  golden  reflections  upon 
the  snowy  drapery.  Near  the  bed  was  a  little 
table  with  twisted  wooden  legs,  on  which  stood 
cooling  drinks,  and  a  small  lamp  of  polished 
brass.  Not  .far  from  the  table  was  a  high- 
backed  arm-chair  covered  with  black  velvet, 
in  which  sat  an  old  lady  dressed  in  a  dark 
woollen  gown  and  a  lace  cap.  She  held  a 
prayer-book,  bound  in  black  velvet,  in  her 
hand,  and  read  assiduously. 

As  soon  as  she  perceived  that  the  boy  had 
moved,  she  laid  aside  her  book,  and  said 


144 


THE   MOUNTAIN-ELF'S  GIFT. 


kindly :  "  Ah !  you  are  awake  at  last,  my  little 
fellow.  You  have  occasioned  us  much  anxiety ; 
but  that  seems  to  be  all  over  now,  for  you  look 
as  gay  and  lively  as  a  meadow  lark." 

"  But  where  then  am  I  ? "  cried  Tony,  as- 
tonished. 

The  woman  laughed,  and  replied :  "  With 
people  who  have  the  best  intentions  towards 
you ;  therefore  set  your  mind  at  rest,  and  do 
not  fear.  My  son,  who  is  a  hunter  in  this 
forest,  found  you  two  nights  ago,  lying  on  the 
snow  asleep,  and  almost  frozen.  He  brought 
you  here  in  his  arms,  and  we  employed  every 
means  in  our  power  to  rouse  you ;  our  efforts 
were  long  in  vain,  but  finally  you  awoke. 
Your  pulse,  however,  was  very  high,  and  you 
talked  all  kind  of  stuff  about  prisons  and 
elves,  a  magic  well,  and  an  Overseer.  Those 
were  of  course  only  phantasms  occasioned  by 
fever." 

"  No,  indeed,  good  lady !  it  was  all  true," 
whispered  Tony,  sadly. 

The  good  old  woman  feared  that  the  fever 
had  returned ;  she  advised  the  boy  to  remain 
very  quiet,  gave  him  a  cooling  drink,  and 


tony's  friend  returns. 


145 


sang  him  a  little  song,  during  which  he  fell 
asleep,  for  he  was  very  feeble. 

But  after  a  few  days  he  recovered  his 
strength  entirely,  and  thereby  delighted  the 
kind  hearts  of  his  new  friends. 

Anselm,  the  young  hunter,  said  to  him : 
"  My  lad,  if  you  wish  to  stay  where  you  are, 
and  would  like  to  be  a  hunter,  you  may  re- 
main with  us,  for  I  am  sure  my  good  mother 
will  willingly  take  care  of  you." 

Dame  Gunilla  nodded  a  kind  assent  to  this 
proposition,  and  Tony  was  only  too  happy. 
He  now  began  an  entirely  new  mode  of  life. 

Gunilla  was  an  excellent  old  lady,  who 
lived  with  her  son  in  a  state  of  great  seclusion, 
but  who,  nevertheless,  had  the  warmest  sym- 
pathies for  all  her  fellow-beings. 

The  boy's  sad  tale,  and  his  desolate  con- 
dition, touched  her  deeply,  although  she  could 
not  but  acknowledge  the  extent  of  his  faults, 
and  her  efforts  were  now  all  directed  to- 
wards reconciling  him  with  the  Overseer. 
She  wished  to  undertake  the  direction  of  the 
boy's  mind,  as  her  son  had  done  the  care  of 
his  body. 

10 


146  THE   MOUNTAIN-ELF'S  GIFT. 

The  hunter's  dwelling  stood  quite  alone  in 
a  thick  wood,  which  in  summer  was  truly 
charming,  but  which  now  groaned  beneath 
a  heavy  covering  of  snow  and  ice ;  the  little 
house,  with  its  red  brick  walls,  was  sheltered 
and  protected  without  by  the  huge  oak  at 
whose  foot  it  was  built,  and  within  it  looked 
so  quiet  and  peaceful  that  Tony  felt  quite 
happy. 

He  went  hunting,  helped  to  fell  trees,  and 
made  himself  so  useful  that  Anselm  was 
highly  pleased  with  him.  In  the  evening 
they  all  sat  round  the  fireplace  in  Gun  ilia's 
little  parlor,  talking  with  one  another,  and 
Tony  soon  learned  to  call  the  good  old  woman 
by  the  tender  name  of  "  mother." 

"  Listen,  my  child,"  said  she  one  evening ; 
"what  is  the  name  of  the  place  where  you 
lived?" 

"  Laubbrunn,  dear  mother." 

"  Strange  that  I  never  should  have  heard 
the  name  before ;  do  you  knoAV  the  place, 
Anselm  ?  " 

"  I  have  never  been  there,"  replied  the 
son  ;  "  but  I  have  been  told  it  lies  some  forty- 


tony's  friend  returns. 


147 


eight  miles  from  here  among  the  moun- 
tains." 

"  But  that  cannot  be  so,  dear  Anselm," 
cried  the  boy,  "  because  I  only  walked  during 
one  night." 

"  O  you  only  fancy  so !  "  laughed  the  hunter. 

"  Certainly  not ;  it  is  true  I  ran  as  if  Death 
himself  were  at  my  heels,  for  I  was  afraid  of 
that  shameful  Overseer." 

Gunilla  shook  her  gray  head  reprovingly, 
and  said :  "  Have  you  no  milder  term  to  apply 
to  your  godfather,  Tony  ?  " 

The  boy's  cheeks  glowed. 

"  No,  no,  I  can  never  speak  mildly  of  him! " 
cried  Tony ;  "  he  has  robbed  me  of  everything, 
even  of  my  good  name,  and  it  was  his  fault 
that  my  little  friend  left  me." 

"  No,  my  child,  you  are  mistaken,"  replied 
the  old  woman ;  "  you  do  as  too  many  men 
are  in  the  habit  of  doing ;  you  blame  others 
for  your  own  faults.  Your  protector  took 
away  your  little  friend  in  consequence  of 
your  own  violence  and  ingratitude ;  and  even 
if  the  latter  were  merely  momentary,  you  can 
thus  see  how  easily  one  fault  leads  to  another ; 


148  THE   MOUNTAIN-ELF'S  GIFT. 


for  had  you  not  been  blinded  by  anger,  you 
.would  never  have  uttered  such  thankless  and 
inconsiderate  words." 

Tony  blushed ;  he  felt  that  Gunilla  spoke 
the  truth ;  nevertheless,  he  could  not  refrain 
from  saying  :  "  But  the  magic  bird  certainly 
asked  too  much  from  me.  How  can  one  be 
good  and  gentle  when  one  is  so  tormented  ?  " 

"  It  is  only  then,  my  child,  that  patience 
and  gentleness  become  virtues ;  for  if  you 
are  praised  and  rewarded,  you  deserve  no  rec- 
ompense for  being  mild  and  good.  But  when 
you  are  thus  towards  those  who  injure  you, 
then  are  you  really  virtuous  ;  and  your  little 
friend  by  no  means  asked  too  much  of  you 
when  he  desired  you  to  have  patience  with 
your  godfather." 

Tony  felt  that  Gunilla  was  quite  right,  but 
he  thought  it  must  be  very  difficult  to  be  so 
good  and  virtuous  as  she  proposed. 

"  It  is  indeed  not  easy,  my  child,  because  it 
is  always  difficult  to  overcome  our  faults  and 
weaknesses ;  but  the  more  needful  is  it  al- 
ways to  renew  our  efforts,  and  especially  to 
banish  all  hatred  and  malice  from  our  souls." 


tony's  friend  returns. 


149 


The  winter  was  now  over,  and  the  beautiful 
spring  called  all  the  birds  and  flowers  from 
their  long  sleep.  Life  again  awoke  round  the 
little  house,  which  stood  as  in  a  blooming 
wreath  of  perfumed  shrubs  and  flowers.  The 
larks  sang  joyfully  in  the  morning  light,  spar- 
rows and  wagtails  bathed  their  little  feet  in  the 
brook,  and  tried  to  outsing  the  thrushes  and 
red-breasts.  Squirrels  and  deer  gambolled 
amid  the  trees  and  upon  the  grass,  while  the 
clumsy  tree-frogs  leaped  merrily  amid  the 
damp  turf.  Wondrously  strange  and  beau- 
tiful was  the  life  which  had  sprung  up  in  the 
forest  and  on  the  meadow,  and  Tony  thought 
he  had  never  been  so  happy  before.  His  only 
desire  now  was  to  be  reconciled  with  the  good 
elf,  and  to  show  him  that  he  had  really  loved 
his  little  guide.  But  he  neither  saw  nor  heard 
anything  of  either  elf  or  bird,  and  feared  they 
had  for  ever  forsaken  and  forgotten  him. 

Tony  had  become  very  skilful  in  the  dis- 
charge of  his  duties,  and  vastly  preferred  the  la- 
bor of  a  forester  in  the  fresh,  green  wood,  under 
the  free  canopy  of  heaven,  to  that  of  a  miner, 
in  the  dark  and  gloomy  recesses  of  the  earth. 


150  THE   MOUNTAIN  ELF's  GIFT. 


He  perfectly  understood  the  management  of 
his  little  gun,  and  could  also  oversee  the 
wood-cutters  and  day-laborers.  Anselm  often 
praised  Tony,  and  called  him  his  active,  indus- 
trious little  lad. 

One  afternoon,  near  twilight,  Tony,  with 
his  gun  over  his  shoulder,  came  singing  and 
whistling  towards  the  house.  As  he  crossed 
the  broad  wagon-road  leading  through  the  for- 
est, he  perceived  a  miserable-looking  beggar 
sitting  by  the  way-side.  The  poor  fellow 
seemed  ill  and  weary,  for  he  groaned  like  a 
dying  man  and.  wept  aloud.  The  boy  was 
about  to  hasten  to  him ;  but  at  that  moment 
Anselm  appeared,  and  compassionately  ap- 
proached the  poor  creature.  The  latter  looked 
up,  and  Tony,  who  stood  unobserved  behind  a 
thick  willow-tree,  nearly  screamed  aloud,  for 
the  sick  beggar  was  none  other  than  his  god- 
father. 

The  boy  drew  noiselessly  back  and  listened 
as  Anselm  said :  "  You  seem  to  be  suffering 
from  exhaustion,  and  perhaps  from  hunger! 
Come  with  me ;  I  will  take  you  to  my  house 
and  provide  for  all  your  wants." 


tony's  friend  returns. 


151 


"  I  cannot  follow  you ;  my  foot  is  very  sore, 
and  I  have  been  wandering  in  this  wilderness 
for  the  last  three  days,"  replied  the  Overseer, 
lifting  his  hollow  eyes  to  the  forester's  kind 
face. 

Anselm  gave  a  look  of  surprise ;  how  could 
the  beggar  call  the  pleasant  little  wood,  with 
its  birds  and  flowers,  a  wilderness.  The  young 
hunter  did  not  divine,  that  to  an  evil  con- 
science every  path  seems  rough  and  thorny, 
and  every  place  appears  a  desert.  He  thought 
the  beggar  must  be  very  ill,  and,  good-na- 
turedly offering  him  his  arm,  said :  "  Lean 
upon  me,  good  old  man ;  I  will  aid  you,  and 
we  will  soon  reach  my  dwelling,  where  you 
will  find  refreshment  and  repose." 

The  Overseer  rose  slowly  and  painfully  from 
the  ground;  and  as  he  took  the  young  man's 
proffered  arm,  he  said :  "  O,  how  long  it  is 
since  I  have  been  kindly  spoken  to !  All  shun 
me  in  my  poverty  and  misery ;  but  indeed  I 
have  deserved  no  better  treatment." 

The  hunter  threw  his  powerful  arm  around 
the  poor  old  man,  and,  thus  supported,  the  lat- 
ter was  enabled  slowly  to  approach  the  little 


152  THE   MOUNTAIN   ELF's  GIFT. 

house.  Tony,  however,  remained  behind,  while 
good  and  evil  angels  struggled  for  the  victory 
in  his  childish  bosom.  The  good  persuaded 
him  to  a  reconciliation  with  the  man  who  had 
so  wronged  him ;  the  evil,  on  the  other  hand, 
bitterly  reminded  him  of  all  he  had  suffered, 
and  whispered,  "  Your  wicked  godfather  will 
be  served  quite  right  if  he  is  now  forced  to 
learn  the  miseries  of  poverty  and  misfortune." 

Tony  felt  deeply  all  Ü13  advice  given  him 
by  his  little  guide,  and  all  that  Gunilla  had 
said  to  him ;  but  he  was  not  yet  good  enough 
to  be  willing  entirely  to  forgive  and  forget  all 
the  painful  past.  Even  when  he  had  reached 
the  house,  he  had  not  decided  upon  his  course 
of  conduct. 

Since  the  eventful  night  of  the  fire,  nothing 
had  prospered  with  the  Overseer.  The  young 
reader  knows  that  he  had  really  abstracted  the 
money  and  concealed  it  in  the  w,all  surround- 
ing the  well,  and  that  he  had  also  purposely 
fired  the  house  and  burned  the  closet.  The 
elf-king,  in  order  to  try  the  boy  and  strengthen 
his  virtue,  had  destroyed  the  proofs  which 
would  otherwise  have  ruined  the  Overseer ;  but 


tony's  friend  returns.  153 

the  latter  was  not  yet  saved,  for  he  was  con- 
tinually tortured  by  his  guilty  conscience,  and 
he  knew  well  that  whoever  had  played  him 
the  trick  of  exchanging  the  purse  for  an  old 
miner's  cap  must  be  a  bitter  and  powerful  en- 
emy. 

His  thought  left  him  no  peace  by  day  or  by 
night,  and  he  became  as  pale  as  a  ghost.  The 
Superintendent  also  mistrusted  him,  for  he 
could  find  no  satisfactory  explanation  of  the 
Overseer's  evident  depression  and  anxiety  on 
that  fearful  night- 

One  evening,  about  two  weeks  after  the  fire, 
the  Superintendent  accidentally  stood  by  the 
mysterious  well ;  he  suddenly  perceived  a  tall, 
thin  miner  standing  near  him,  whose  counte- 
nance shone  mildly  and  kindly  in  the  moon- 
light. The  stranger  silently  pointed  to  the 
stone  which  Tony  had  vainly  removed  from 
the  wall,  and  lo !  it  rolled  out  of  its  own  ac- 
cord, and  with  it  fell  a  pocket-book  and  a 
purse  of  shining  gold. 

The  Superintendent  lifted  them  from  the 
ground,  and  held  the  full  proofs  of  Steele's 
guilt  in  his  hands ;  but  he  could  not  yet  un- 


154  THE   MOUNTAIN   ELF's  GIFT. 


derstand  it  all,  and  turned  to  his  silent  com- 
panion in  search  of  an  explanation.  But  the 
pale  miner  had  vanished. 

Steele  could  no  longer  deny  the  truth;  his 
uneasy  conscience  betrayed  him ;  he  acknowl- 
edged his  guilt,  lost  his  place,  and  only  through 
flight  escaped  a  more  severe  punishment.  But 
ere  he  went,  he  learned  that  Tony's  prison  was 
empty,  and  that  the  boy  had  escaped.  The 
image  of  the  little  godson  whom  he  had  be- 
trayed constantly  pursued  him;  day  and  night 
he  heard  the  boy's  melancholy  lamentations, 
and  nowhere  could  he  find  peace  or  rest.  To- 
ny's cry  of  horror,  when  brought  forward  and 
accused  of  such  grievous  misdeeds,  rang  con- 
tinually in  his  ears. 

Weeks  and  months  passed,  and  he  was  still 
a  homeless  wanderer  on  the  face  of  the  earth. 
The  little  house  in  the  forest  lay  in  truth  at 
the  distance  of  several  days'  journey  from 
Laubbrunn,  so  that  the  elf-king  must  himself 
have  aided  our  Tony. 

Mary  and  Maggie  lived  alone  in  a  small  vil- 
lage, where  the  former  earned  her  daily  bread 
by  spinning. 


tony's  friend  returns. 


155 


It  was  quite  dark  before  Tony  entered  the 
house ;  and  as  he  had  not  yet  determined  how 
he  would  meet  his  godfather,  he  paused  in  the 
entry  near  the  door  of*  the  sitting-room,  which 
chanced  to  be  open.  The  boy  looked  in  and 
saw  the  Overseer  sitting  in  a  low  chair,  and 
eagerly  eating  some  warm  broth  which  Gunilla 
had  prepared  for  him.  He  was  very  pale  and 
thin,  but  his  eyes  glowed  with  excitement,  and 
he  seemed  to  have  just  finished  his  melancholy 
history,  for  he  added :  "  O,  if  my  mind  were 
only  at  rest  about  the  boy;  if  I  only  knew 
whether  he  lived  and  could  forgive  me! 
Sometimes  when  I  had  lain  awake  during 
the  whole  night,  tormented  by  anxiety  and 
sorrow,  and  finally  towards  morning  fell 
asleep,  I  would  hear  strange,  whispering 
voices,  —  such  as  they  say  the  elves  have,  — 
saying :  '  When  Tony  forgives  you,  your  mis- 
ery will  have  an  end  ! ' 99 

"  What  was  the  boy's  name  ?  "  cried  An- 
selm and  Gunilla,  breathless. 

"  Tony,"  was  the  answer. 

Mother  and  son  looked  significantly  at  one 
another,  but  did  not  say  how  near  the  boy 


156 


THE   MOUNTAIN   ELf's  GIFT. 


was,  because  they  wished  first  to  prepare  him, 
and  were  not  sure  that  he  would  return  home 
during  the  evening  ;  for  when  the  weather  was 
mild,  Tony  frequently  slept  in  the  woods. 

But  he*  had  heard  all,  and  his  heart  beat 
loudly  and  stormily ;  he  hastened  into  the  gar- 
den, for  he  did  not  dare  to  enter  the  room 
while  he  was  so  fearfully  excited.  He  sat 
down  in  his  favorite  place,  under  a  tall  lilac- 
bush,  and  leaned  his  head  upon  his  hand.  It 
is  said  that  sleep  dwells  amid  the  fragrant 
blossoms  of  the  lilac,  and  that  all  who  rest 
under  ite  branches  must  sleep.  I  do  not  know 
if  that  be  really  the  case ;  but,  however,  Tony 
soon  fell  into  a  deep  slumber. 

He  was  suddenly  awakened  from  a  series 
of  perplexing  dreams  by  the  sound  of  a  low, 
sweet  strain  of  music ,  he  opened  his  eyes ;  it 
must  have  been  near  midnight,  for  all  the 
lights  in  the  cottage  had  been  extinguished, 
but  the  stars  were  beaming  down  from  heaven 
like  friendly  angels'  eyes,  and  the  moonlight 
trembled  over  the  blooming  shrub.  The  strain 
continued.  Tony  looked  up  longingly  among 
the  branches,  and  lo !  his  presentiment  had  not 


tony's  friend  returns.   •  157 

deceived  him,  for  on  one  of  the  lowest  limbs 
sat  the  magic  bird. 

The  boy  cried  out  with  joy,  and  raised  his 
hand  toward  the  bird.  But  the  macaw  flew 
out  of  his  reach,  and  said :  "  I  am  not  yours 
yet,  Tony ;  I  must  first  know  whether  you  de- 
serve me." 

"  O,  what  shall  I  do  that  you  may  again  be- 
come mine,  and  my  friend  as  before  ?  "  cried 
the  boy. 

"  Have  you  done  all  that  I  desired  you  to 
do  ?  "  asked  the  bird. 
The  boy  was  silent. 

"  Remember  the  Overseer ! "  said  the  warn- 
ing voice;  "can  you  not  yet  forgive  him  ?  Can 
you  not  renounce  your  bitter  feelings  ?  " 

Tony's  heart  suddenly  melted  with  tender- 
ness and  joy ;  tears  stood  in  his  eyes,  and  he 
sobbed  aloud,  saying :  "  Yes,  yes,  I  can  forgive 
him ;  I  know  now,  and  have  long  known,  that 
you  advised  me  for  my  own  benefit,  and  am 
now  determined  to  be  good,  and  to  follow  all 
your  instructions." 

Scarcely  had  he  said  the  words,  when  the 
bird  flew  down,  lighted  on  the  shoulder  of  the 


158  the  mountain-elf's  gift. 


happy  boy,  laid  his  little  head  against  his 
cheek,  caressed  him,  and  loudly  carolled  for 

"  I  am  now  content,  my  son,"  suddenly  said 
a  soft  voice,  and  the  tall,  pale  miner,  the  king 
of  the  mountain-elves,  stood  before  Tony,  who 
joyfully  threw  himself  at  the  feet  of  his  kind 
friend.  "  You  have  now  recovered  my  love 
and  favor,  you  have  heroically  struggled  with 
your  worst'  faults,  and  the  more  severe  the 
combat,  the  more  honor  you  deserve.  You 
will  now  be  happy,  whereas,  if  you  had  yielded 
to  your  failings,  your  portion  in  life  would 
have  been  one  of  bitterness  and  sorrow.  I 
will  also  now  forgive  your  godfather,  as  you 
have  done,  and  his  misery  will  end  when  you 
have  assured  him  of  your  kind  feelings  to- 
wards him.  You  must  keep  your  little  feath- 
ered friend  as  a  remembrance  from  me ;  hence- 
forth he  will  neither  warn  nor  blame,  but  will 
merely  assist  you  with  his  counsel,  which  will 
always  be  the  best  you  can  find.  Farewell, 
my  child,  and  never  cease  to  walk  in  the  good 
way  on  which  you  have  now  entered." 

Before  Tony  could  reply,  the  elf-king  had 


THE  RETURN 


tony's  friend  returns.  159 

vanished ;  but  the  red  bird  sat  upon  his  shoul- 
der, spread  out  its  variegated  feathers,  and  re- 
joiced with  the  larks  which  had  just  awaked 
from  their  light  slumbers,  for  the  day  had 
meanwhile  broken. 

When  the  Overseer  opened  his  eyes,  he 
fancied  himself  still  pursued  by  the  torment- 
ing images  of  his  evil  dreams,  and  lifting  his 
hand  to  his  face,  as  if  to  shut  out  the  sight  of 
Tony,  who  stood  before  him,  he  cried :  "Is  it 
your  spirit,  poor  boy,  which  thus  pursues  me  ?  " 

61  Ah,  God  forbid,  dear  godfather !  It  is  I, 
myself,  your  little  Tony,  who  will  no  longer 
remember  that  you  once  could  not  bear  him. 
I  will  work  for  you  that  you  may  become 
strong  and  healthy,  and  we  will  go  and  bring 
Mrs.  Steele  and  dear  Maggie  here.  What 
great  eyes  the  sweet  little  girl  will  make, 
when  she  sees  the  wood  and  the  beautiful 
flowers ! " 

It  was  a  long  time  before  the  Overseer  fully 
recovered  from  his  surprise,  or  could  be  brought 
to  understand  Tony's  generosity. 

All  now  went  well;  Gunilla  and  Anselm 
arranged  the  prettiest  little  rooms  for  the 


160         the  mountain-elf's  gift. 


Overseer  and  his  family ;  Mary  soon  regained 
her  color  in  the  fresh  air  of  the  forest,  and 
Maggie  became  as  lively  and  happy  as  ever. 
The  Overseer  also  recovered  his  health,  and 
with  health  came  cheerfulness  and  energy. 
He  never  returned  to  the  mine,  but  Anselm 
gave  him  work  sufficient  to  maintain  himself 
and  his  family.  He  labored  industriously,  and 
never  again  fell  back  into  his  old  faults. 

But  Tony  was  the  gayest  and  happiest 
among  them  all ;  he  was  always  patient  and 
good,  and  the  elf-king  remained  his  protector 
to  the  last  hour  of  his  life. 

And  now,  my  dear  young  readers,  I  wish 
you  all  such  a  friend  as  Tony  possessed  in  his 
magic  bird.  The  good  macaw  found  little  to 
blame,  but  could  lighten  all  the  boy's  labor  by 
bringing  him  good  fortune,  peace,  and  joy ;  for 
the  elf-king  had  conferred  this  power  upon  his 
messenger,  and  the  good  bird  discharged  all  his 
duties  faithfully. 

Tony's  trials  were  thus  all  finally  ended,  and 
he  became  as  contented  and  happy  as  any  little 
boy  could  wish  to  be. 


THE  DEAR  RECKONING. 


A  TRUE  STORY. 


11 


THE  DEAR  RECKONING. 


One  fine  summer  afternoon,  a  handsome 
hunting-carriage  was  seen  on  the  road  lead- 
ing to  Bordeaux,  apparently  hastening  towards 
some  secure  shelter  from  the  thunder-storm 
which  was  darkening  the  heavens,  and  mo- 
mentarily threatening  to  burst  upon  the  trav- 
ellers. 

In  the  carriage  sat  two  young  men,  of  about 
twenty  years  of  age ;  the  one  upon  the  right 
had  dark,  fiery  eyes,  and  curly,  black  hair. 
He  was  evidently  a  Frenchman ;  his  name 
was  Ferdinand  Maria,  Duke  of  Orleans,  and 
he  was  the  eldest  son  of  Louis  Philippe,  then 
king  of  France. 

The  fair-haired  young  man  at  his  side  was 
his  aide-de-camp.    They  had  both  been  spend- 


164 


THE   DEAR  RECKONING. 


ing  some  weeks  in  Bordeaux,  and  were  just 
returning  from  a  hunting-party. 

"  It  is  of  no  use,  Josselin,  the  storm  will  sure- 
ly overtake  us ! "  said  the  Dauphin,  laughing. 

"  At  all  events,  your  Royal  Highness,  it  will 
not  be  the  first  storm  which  has  wet  our  locks," 
replied  M.  de  Josselin,  in  the  same  lively  tone. 

The  Duke  responded :  "  Aha !  my  friend, 
you  are  thinking  of  the  storm  which  greeted 
us  as  we  entered  Rouen,  and  washed  away  all 
the  arches  erected  in  our  honor!  Well,  in- 
deed that  storm  was  by  no  means  to  be  re- 
gretted, for  it  decently  relieved  us  from  all  the 
ceremonies  and  harangues  awaiting  our  ar- 
rival. Happy  men,  to  be  delivered  from  such 
wearisome  displays ! " 

The  young  men  continued  their  conversation 
in  the  same  strain,  while  the  coachman  encour- 
aged his  steeds  to  increase  their  speed,  and  the 
two  huntsmen  on  the  back  seat  of  the  carriage 
drew  their  cloaks  closely  round  them,  to  protect 
themselves  from  the  cold  wind,  now  blowing 
quite  freshly. 

The  rain  still  delayed,  and  all  seemed  pro- 
pitious to  an  escape  from  the  storm,  when 


A  TRUE  STORY. 


165 


suddenly  the  vehicle  slipped  to  one  side,  and 
a  loud  crack  warned  the  travellers  that  some- 
thing was  amiss.  The  Prince  sprang  out, 
followed  by  Josselin  and  the  huntsmen.  A 
moment  later,  the  carriage  fell  on  its  side. 
The  Prince  himself  examined  into  the  cause 
of  the  overthrow,  and  found  that  a  pin  had 
broken  which  it  would  require  but  a  few  mo- 
ments to  have  repaired.  His  dark  eye  glanced 
rapidly  over  the  surrounding  country,  and  per- 
ceiving a  small  village  at  a  short  distance,  he 
gave  orders  to  drive  the  carriage  very  slowly 
thither  in  search  of  a  wheelwright.  He  fol- 
lowed on  foot,  accompanied  by  his  aide-de- 
camp and  the  two  Huntsmen.  A  sharp  wind 
whistled  through  the  grain-fields,  and  the  heavy 
golden  ears  bowed  their  graceful  heads  before 
the  blast.  The  sound  was  like  the  murmuring 
of  many  waves,  and  one  might  have  fancied 
one's  self  near  the  majestic  Garonne,  which 
here  winds  for  so  many  miles  between  the 
most  blooming  and  luxuriant  banks. 

The  Duke  of  Orleans  was  very  lively;  he 
jested  with  his  companion  over  their  little 
adventure,  and  it  almost  seemed  as  if  he  pre- 


166 


THE   DEAR  RECKONING. 


ferred  meeting  the  storm  under  the  open  vault 
of  heaven,  for  he  walked  very  leisurely,  so  that 
the  carriage  was  nearly  ready  by  the  time  he 
reached  the  village. 

The  wheelwright  was  a  very  simple-hearted, 
good-natured  man,  whom  zeal  in  the  discharge 
of  his  professional  duties  had  at  that  moment 
rendered  very  red  in  the  face,  —  a  redness 
which  would  not  have  at  all  diminished  had 
he  known  what  noble  guests  were  approach- 
ing his  dwelling. 

Near  the  door  sat  the  wheelwright's  wife, 
spinning.  Her  well-worn,  faded  clothing 
showed  that  her  husband's  business  was  not 
very  lucrative  in  the  little  village,  through 
which  few  travellers  passed,  and  where  his 
services  were  but  seldom  needed.  By  her 
side  sat  a  young  girl,  whose  countenance 
seemed  darkened  by  some  sorrow,  and  who 
retired  as  the  gentlemen  approached. 

The  young  Duke  courteously  saluted  the  old 
woman,  and  sought  by  opening  a  conversation 
with  her  to  shorten  the  time  which  still  re- 
mained, as  the  wheelwright  continued  to  ham- 
mer busily  and  noisily  on. 


A   TRUE  STORY. 


167 


Dame  Jaqueline  became  very  talkative  and 
confidential ;  the  Duke  was  highly  amused 
with  her  volubility,  and  while  Josselin  went 
to  overlook  the  wheelwright,  Ferdinand  asked : 
"  Was  the  pretty  blonde  maiden  your  daughter, 
my  good  woman  ?  " 

"  No  sir,  my  niece ;  her  name  is  Juliet,  and 
she  is  a  poor  orphan,  but  a  good  and  gentle 
girl ;  our  priest  says  she  is  the  best  child  in 
the  parish." 

"  Why,  then,  does  she  seem  so  sad  ?  " 

The  old  woman  looked  important,  and  re- 
plied mysteriously :  "  Do  you  see  that  tall, 
proud-looking  man  who  is  now  standing  by 
my  Frank  ?  " 

The  Duke  looked  up,  and  saw  a  figure 
standing  near  the  wheelwright  which  im- 
pressed him  very  unfavorably ;  it  was  that 
of  a  tall,  thin  man,  whose  face  had  a  most 
arrogant  and  disdainful  expression.  The 
stranger's  short  nose  stood  high  in  the  air, 
and  his  lips  were  scornfully  curled,  as  if  he 
jfancied  himself  better  than  all  the  rest  of 
the  world.  He  met  the  Prince's  glance  with 
an  air  of  superciliousness  which  plainly  showed 


168 


THE   DEAR  RECKONING. 


the  little  regard  he  felt  for  a  fellow  human  be- 
ing. Of  course  he  did  not  divine  the  young 
man's  rank,  as  Ferdinand  was  plainly  dressed, 
and  without  orders  or  decorations  of  any  kind. 

The  old  woman  continued  :  "  You  see,  dear 
sir,  the  man  is  an  innkeeper  in  the  next  town ; 
indeed,  to  look  at  him,  you  would  think  him 
at  least  a  prince  or  a  duke,  he  is  so  haughty." 

Ferdinand  laughed  heartily  at  this  remark, 
and  the  dame  proceeded  :  "  Mr.  Bertram — .that 
is  his  name  —  has  a  son,  Harry,  who  is  as  good 
and  friendly  as  his  father  is  the  contrary,  for  he 
most  fortunately  resembles  his  mother,  who 
was  a  cousin  of  mine.  Now,  only  think  of  it ! 
Harry  loves  my  pretty  Juliet,  and  would  will- 
ingly marry  her,  for  he  does  not  care  how  poor 
his  bride  is.  The  good  young  man !  He  has 
brought  a  great  deal  of  trouble  upon  his  head, 
for  his  father  is  very  angry,  and  has  sworn  that 
his  son  shall  marry  no  maiden  who  cannot 
bring  him  a  dowry  of  at  least  two  thousand 
francs.  Only  think  of  that,  sir,  two  thousand 
francs !  And  if  my  husband  were  to  work  day 
and  night,  and  I  were  to  spin  as  long,  we  could 
never  earn  so  much,  no  matter  how  tenderly 


A  TRUE  STORY. 


169 


we  loved  our  dear  Juliet,  or  how  her  tears 
grieved  us ;  for  since  that  harsh  determination 
she  has  become  very  pale  and  sickly,  and  so 
has  Harry." 

Duke  Ferdinand  listened  attentively,  and 
asked :  "  What  is  the  name  of  the  town  where 
Bertram  keeps  his  inn  ?  " 

"  L  s,  dear  sir ;  it  lies  on  the  main  road, 

about  a  half-mile  from  here;  you  must  pass 
through  it  on  your  way  to  Bordeaux." 

"  And  what  does  he  call  his  inn  ?  " 

"  The  Golden  Fox." 

"  But  how  comes  it  that  the  old  fox  is  here 
now,  when  he  must  surely  be  angry  with  you 
all  ?  "  asked  the  Duke. 

"  O  he  certainly  never  would  have  come  here 
had  he  not  been  forced,  by  an  accident  very 
much  like  yours,  to  apply  to  my  old  Frank  for 
assistance." 

Juliet  again  entered  the  room;  her  appear- 
ance gave  evidence  of  the  truth  of  her  aunt's 
account;  she  looked  mild  and  good,  but  her 
dark  eyes  were  very  sorrowful.  The  Duke 
begged  her  for  a  glass  of  water,  and  she  has- 
tened out  to  bring  it. 


170 


THE  DEAR  RECKONING. 


When  she  returned,  he  asked  her  many  ques- 
tions, to  which  she  gave  modest  and  sensible 
answers;  but  she  soon  left  him,  taking  with 
her  the  spinning-wheel,  which  could  no  longer 
be  safely  left  out  of  doors,  as  the  rain  seemed 
now  very  near. 

The  wheelwright  had  meanwhile  finished 
his  work,  and  the  Duke's  carriage  was  again 
ready  for  use.  When  M.  de  Josselin  offered 
to  pay  him,  the  honest  old  man  asked  such  an 
incredibly  small  sum  that  the  young  baron 
laughed,  and  said :  u  But  indeed  we  cannot 
pay  you  so  small  a  sum  as  two  francs,  we 
have  not  the  change  with  us  ;  reckon  it  up 
again,  my  good  old  fellow,  your  labor  is  cer- 
tainly worth  more  than  two  francs." 

The  honest  man  was  quite  astonished  at  the 
young  gentleman's  generosity,  but  he  never- 
theless conscientiously  replied  :  "  Sir,  although 
I  am  very  poor  and  sorely  in  want  of  money, 
yet  I  must  tell  the  truth,  and  I  am  quite  sure 
that  two  francs  is  quite  enough  for  all  I  have 
done." 

"  My  good  friend,  you  must  reconsider  the 
matter,"  said  Josselin,  good-naturedly,  "  and 


A   TRUE  STORY. 


171 


yon  must  make  out  another  account ;  '  you 
may  safely  do  so,  for  the  gentleman  is  rich, 
and  I  tell  you  in  confidence  that  he  is  —  a 
prince." 

Old  Frank  and  the  landlord  of  the  Golden 
Fox,  who  stood  near,  listening,  opened  their 
eyes,  and  made  a  profusion  of  bows.  Frank 
suffered  himself  to  be  persuaded,  and  after  the 
lapse  of  a  few  moments,  Josselin,  making  a 
great  effort  to  repress  his  laughter,  gave  his 
lord  the  following  remarkable  account,  the  re- 
sult of  Frank's  efforts  :  — 

1 .  To  mending  one  carridge  for  his  Hiness  .    .  2  francs. 

2.  To  creeping  twice  under  the  carridge  ...  3  " 

3.  To  creeping  out  again   2  " 

4.  To  one  terribel  nock  on  the  head   ....  3  " 

Total,  10  francs. 
In  spite  of  Frank's  masterly  system  of  reck- 
oning, he  could  think  of  nothing  more  to  be 
added  to  the  account.  Duke  Ferdinand  paid 
the  sum  twice  over,  carefully  placed  the  bill 
in  his  pocket-book,  that  he  might  at  some 
other  time  fully  enjoy  its  originality,  then 
sprang  into  his  carriage,  waved  a  friendly 
adieu  to  the  old  woman  and  Juliet,  who  stood 


172 


THE   DEAR  RECKONING. 


at  the  window,  and  cried  out  in  a  loud  tone  to 

his  coachman :  "  Drive  to  L  s  as  fast  as 

you  can,  and  stop  at  the  Golden  Fox ;  I  will 
remain  there  all  night.  I  hear  the  Fox  gives 
excellent  lodgings ! " 

I  wish,  my  dear  young  reader,  you  could 
have  seen  Bertram ;  he  was  perfectly  electri- 
fied at  the  thought  that  a  noble  prince,  whose 
generosity  he  had  just  witnessed,  was  about  to 
honor  his  dwelling  with  his  presence ;  the  ava- 
ricious old  fellow  was  delighted. 

Bertram's  simple  vehicle  was  soon  in  readi- 
ness, and  he  hastened  homeward  in  order  to 
greet  his  noble  guest  as  speedily  as  possible. 

On  the  way  he  considered  how  he  could 
turn  the  generous  prince's  visit  to  the  best 
account,  and  muttered  to  himself,  with  a  very 
self-confident  air,  "  At  all  events,  I  understand 
the  picking  of  a  golden  bird  much  better  than 
that  old  fool  of  a  Frank!" 

The  Prince's  equipage,  meanwhile,  flew  like 
an  arrow  over  the  plain ;  the  black  horses 
scarcely  touched  the  ground  with  their  hoofs, 
and  the  towers  of  L  s  were  soon  in  view. 

But  the  storm  now  burst  upon  them  in  all 


A  TRUE  STORY. 


173 


its  fury ;  the  lightning  darted  like  fiery  serpents 
amid  the  black  clouds  which  covered  the  even- 
ing sky ;  the  thunder  roared  and  rattled,  while 
the  rain  poured  in  torrents,  and  the  wind  blew 
as  if  old  Boreas  himself  were  out  for  a  holi- 
day. 

M.  de  Josselin  closed  the  carriage  windows ; 
the  huntsmen  drew  their  cloaks  still  more 
closely  about  them,  and  the  coachman  strove 
with  voice  and  whip  to  give  wings  to  his  tired 
steeds. 

The  city  gate  was  finally  reached ;  near  the 
entrance  was  seen  a  brilliant  sign  hanging  over 
a  large  door ;  it  represented  a  great  golden  fox 
with  a  bushy  tail  and  a  fine  pair  of  ears ;  the 
whole  was  evidently  the  production  of  a  bold 
pencil,  for  the  paint  on  the  fox's  golden  fleece 
was  at  least  an  inch  thick. 

u  Here  we  are  !  "  cried  the  Duke,  gayly  leap- 
ing out  of  the  carriage. 

His  companions  followed. 

A  young  man  of  agreeable  appearance  and 
handsome  countenance  stood  in  the  door-way. 
He  gave  the  strangers  a  polite  welcome,  and 
led  them  up  a  creaking  stairway  into  the  best 


174 


THE   DEAR  RECKONING. 


chamber  in  the  house,  for  he  at  once  recognized 
the  travellers  as  persons  of  rank. 

The  Duke  took  possession  of  a  pretty  little 
room,  simply  furnished,  but  very  clean  and 
neat ;  its  only  ornament  was  a  vase  of  fresh 
flowers  standing  on  the  window-sill. 

"  Are  you  the  host  ? "  asked  the  Duke,  in 
those  winning  tones  which  in  after  times  won 
him  so  many  hearts. 

"  I  am  his  son,  gracious  sir,"  replied  the 
young  man. 

"  Ah,  Mr.  Harry  Bertram ! " 

"  Do  you  know  my  name,  sir  ?  "  cried  Har- 
ry, astonished. 

"  Certainly,  my  friend,  and  it  is  fortunate 
that  I  met  you,  for  I  bear  you  a  greeting." 

Harry  laughed  incredulously,  and  stam- 
mered :  "  I  really  do  not  know,  sir,  who  —  " 

"  The  greeting  was  confided  to  my  keeping 
by  the  pretty  lips  of  a  fan  young  maiden ; 
come,  come,  Harry,  you  need  not  blush  so ! 
Juliet  sent  you  a  greeting,  and  also  bids  you 
hope,  for  all  will  yet  be  well.  I  do  not  know 
exactly  what  she  meant,"  added  the  Duke, 
with  an  innocent  ah*,  "  but  it  will  nevertheless 


A   TRUE  STORY. 


175 


be  very  prudent  to  follow  her  advice,  for  hope 
is  a  friendly  star  in  every  trouble  ;  God  him- 
self has  placed  it  in  our  souls,  to  guide  us 
through  the  darkness  of  human  woes.  Fol- 
low  Juliet's  advice ;  you  wall  find  it  to  your 
advantage." 

Harry  did  not  know  exactly  how  it  was,  but 
the  handsome  strangers  speech  made  a  won- 
derful impression  on  him,  and  his  countenance, 
usually  so  melancholy,  became  quite  serene, 
and  even  joyful. 

Meanwhile  old  Bertram  arrived,  wet  to  the 
skin,  and  without  his  wig,  which  the  wind  had 
blown  far  away,  out  of  his  reach.  He  had  no 
time,  however,  to  indulge  in  any  manifesta- 
tions of  ill-temper ;  he  was  too  highly  en- 
chanted to  find  the  noble  strangers  really 
lodged  in  his  inn,  and  too  busy  in  donning 
his  Sunday  suit  and  in  issuing  various  orders, 
to  remember  the  inconveniences  he  had  en- 
dured. He  did  the  honors  of  his  house  with 
innumerable  bows  and  fine  speeches,  and  wea- 
ried the  Duke's  patience  with  the  silliest  non- 
sense he  had  ever  listened  to. 

The  landlord  was  quite  provoked  when  the 


176 


THE  DEAR  RECKONING. 


prince  ordered  a  simple  cup  of  tea  for  his  sup- 
per ;  the  old  fellow  could  not  exactly  see  how 
he  was  to  derive  any  very  great  advantage 
from  all  he  could  decently  charge  for  such 
ordinary  fare. 

And  yet  he  was  determined  that  some  mon- 
strous, some  unheard-of  advantage  must  be 
the  consequence  of  so  rare  a  visit. 

Early  on  the  following  morning,  the  Duke's 
carriage  stood  before  the  door,  the  sun  shone 
out  clear  and  warm,  and  every  trace  of  the 
storm  had  vanished.  The  young  Duke  was 
ready  to  depart ;  and  only  waited  for  his  bill. 

Old  Bertram  entered,  with  his  customary 
salutations  to  the  great ;  his  son  followed  with 
an  embarrassed  air,  and  remained  standing  in 
the  door-way  :  he  divined  that  his  father  was 
about  to  play  some  rascally  trick. 

The  Duke  unfolded  the  account,  and  al- 
though he  was  accustomed  to  the  most  ex- 
travagant charges,  he  had  never  before  seen 
anything  like  this  ;  for  mine  host  of  the  Gold- 
en Fox  had  reckoned  his  night's  lodging,  sup- 
per, etc.  at  five  hundred  francs. 

Duke  Ferdinand  said  nothing,  but,  quietly 


A  TRUE   STORY.  177 

taking  the  purse  from  the  hand  of  Josselin, 
who  was  usually  the  paymaster,  he  counted 
out  upon  the  round  oak-table  long  rows  of 
shining  gold  pieces,  far  exceeding  in  value  the 
sum  demanded  of  him. 

"  Will  you  ask  the  Mayor  of  the  city  to  step 
here  an  instant  ?  "  said  he  to  Harry,  without, 
however,  interrupting  his  occupation.  "  I  have 
something  to  say  to  him  ?  " 

Harry  hastily  left  the  room. 

The  Duke  counted  and  counted,  the  sum 
grew  larger  and  larger,  and  the  embarrassment 
of  the  old  man,  who  could  not  conceive  what 
his  illustrious  guest  intended  to  do  with  such^ 
a  heap  of  gold,  increased  proportionally. 

After  the  lapse  of  about  fifteen  minutes, 
Harry  entered  with  the  Mayor,  who  bowed 
deeply. 

The  Duke  assumed  an  air  of  command,  and 
said  :  "  You  will  receive  from  us,  Sir  Mayor, 
the  sum  of  two  thousand  francs,  which  is  des- 
tined for  the  dowry  of  a  poor  maiden  belong- 
ing to  this  parish,  if  she  will  consent  to  fulfil 
the  only  condition  we  shall  name :  the  money 

is  hers,  but  she  must  pay  out  of  it  to  Julian 
12 


178  THE  DEAR  RECKONING. 

Bertram,  landlord  of  the  Golden  Fox,  the  ex- 
penses of  four  persons  for  one  night's  lodging. 
Count  them  up  yourself,  Mayor,  the  utmost 
that  beds  and  supper  for  four  very  moderate 
men  can  amount  to,  and  then  deduct  the  sum 
—  from  twelve  to  fourteen  francs  —  from  this 
pile  of  gold,  and  give  it  to  our  worthy  host  of 
the  Fox.  Such,  sir,  is  the  will  of  Ferdinand 
of  Orleans ! " 

Bertram  felt  as  if  he  could  sink  into  the 
earth  with  shame.  The  Mayor  bowed,  and 
respectfully  asked :  "  Will  your  Highness  have 
the  kindness  to  mention  the  name  of  the 
4  fortunate  maiden  who  is  to  receive  so  rich  a 
gift  at  your  royal  hand  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  Mayor ;  the  maiden  is  good, 
pretty,  and  industrious ;  her  name  is  Juliet 

D  ,  and  she  is  the  niece  of  a  wheelwright 

in  the  nearest  village.  If  you  wish  to  know 
more,  you  must  ask  Mr.  Harry  Bertram  ;  his 
beaming  eyes  will  tell  you  that  he  is  well  ac- 
quainted with  the  pretty  bride  and  the  happy 
groom.  I  hope  there  may  be  no  further  ob- 
stacle in  the  way  of  the  happy  couple,  for 
they  now  stand  under  my  own  especial  pro- 
tection." 


A  TRUE  STORY. 


179 


Harry  could  scarcely  find  words  to  express 
his  fervent  gratitude,  while  the  old  man  sought 
a  refuge  from  his  confusion  in  a  hasty  retreat. 

The  Duke  escaped  all  further  thanks  by 
leaping  into  his  carriage,  and  giving  orders  to 
drive  off  at  once.  His  parting  salutation  was 
most  gracious  and  friendly.  The  two  reck- 
onings, honest  Frank's  and  the  disappointed 
landlord's,  afforded  the  Prince  and  his  com- 
panion infinite  entertainment  during  the  re- 
mainder of  their  journey,  and  were  never  after- 
wards recalled  to  memory  without  awakening 
the  most  lively  and  amusing  recollections. 

The  Mayor  paid  the  angry  landlord  fourteen, 
francs.  Harry  and  Juliet  were  soon  after  mar- 
ried, and  were  as  happy  as  the  good  prince 
could  wish  them. 

Whether  old  Bertram  ever  again  asked  five 
hundred  francs  for  tea  and  a  night's  lodging, 
is  unknown  to  me,  but  I  doubt  it  very  much ; 
for  after  the  scene  we  have  just  described, 
which  soon  became  known  to  every  man, 
woman,  and  child  in  the  town,  it  was  long 
before  he  dared  to  venture  into  the  streets  un- 
til after  nightfall,  because  all  the  boys  mocked 


180 


THE   DEAR  RECKONING. 


and  derided  him ;  they  even  came  daily  and 
sang  the  following  song  under  his  window  :  — 

"  Golden  Fox, 

Sly  old  Fox, 

Were  you  bit, 

"Were  you  hit, 
When  you  got,  for  tea  and  bed, 
Only  fourteen  francs  a  bead  ? 
Far  too  little,  hero  bold  ! 
Vain  your  tricks  :  the  seller  's  sold  !  " 


FILIAL  LOYE. 

A  LEGEND. 


CHAPTER  I. 


THE  OFFER. 

It  was  a  warm,  sunshiny  day  in  the  month 
of  June.  Near  a  little  village  among  the  hills 
stood  a  wade-spreading  linden,  under  which  the 
village  youth  were  dancing  and  otherwise 
amusing  themselves,  for  it  was  a  holiday. 
The  shrill  tones  of  the  bagpipe  mingled  with 
the  rich,  full  notes  of  the  bugle  ;  but  the  young 
people  cared  little  for  the  discordant  sounds, 
and  danced  merrily  on. 

Some  fifty  paces  from  the  gay  company, 
and  apart  from  the  remaining  houses  in  the 
village,  stood  a  small  cottage.  It  was  sur- 
rounded by  a  little  garden,  and  before  the  door 
was  a  white-pine  bench,  over  which  waved  a 
blooming  acacia,  making  a  kind  of  arbor.  On 
the  bench  sat  a  tolerably  stout-looking  man, 


184 


FILIAL  LOVE. 


unoccupied,  and  apparently  an  unsympathiz- 
ing  spectator  of  all  that  was  passing  around 
him.  But  alas !  the  poor  man  could  see  noth- 
ing, for  he  had  lost  the  use  of  his  eyes,  and  sat 
absorbed  in  the  melancholy  consideration  of 
the  misfortune  which  had  rendered  him  as 
helpless  as  a  child.  On  a  stool  at  his  feet  sat 
a  little  girl  of  about  thirteen  years  of  age.  She 
was  sewing,  but  from  time  to  time  laid  her 
work  aside  and  stroked  the.  blind  man's  hand. 
Finally  she  asked,  in  low  and  gentle  tones: 
"  Are  you  well  protected,  father,  from  the  sun's 
hot  rays  ?  " 

"  I  am  very  comfortable,  Erna ! "  replied  he. 
But  after  a  short  pause  he  added,  somewhat 
bitterly :  "  Do  you  hear  the  music  ?  Child,  go 
down  and  dance  with  the  others.  You  should 
be  where  youth  and  joy  prevail.  I  will  not  de- 
prive you  of  every  pleasure  in  life ;  it  is  enough 
that  I  must  renounce  them  all." 

"  Let  me  stay  with  you,  father,"  said  the 
child,  caressingly ;  "  I  do  not  care  to  dance." 

"  But  you  used  to  care  for  it,  and  you  only 
remain  here  on  my  account,"  replied  he,  has- 
tily.   "  Go ;  I  will  not  have  the  people  saying 


THE  OFFER. 


185 


that  my  misfortune  has  deprived  you  of  every 
youthful  enjoyment!" 

"  O  father,  no  one  says  that ! "  continued 
she,  imploringly.  1 "  I  would  go,  but  I  am  sure 
I  should  find  no  pleasure  there,  for  my  friend 
Minnie  is  absent." 

"  Where  is  she  then  ?  " 

"  She  has  gone  with  her  father  among  the 
hills  in  search  of  an  herb  which  only  springs 
up  on  St.  John's  day,  and  soon  after  sinks 
back  into  the  earth.  Her  mother  needs  the 
herb,  for  it  is  said  to  bring  sleep,  and  Minnie's 
mother  has  been  able  to  sleep  but  very  little 
since  she  lost  her  infant  boy." 

Berthold  sighed  and  said :  "  Her  case  is  like 
mine,  in  so  far  that  I  too  enjoy  but  very  little 
repose;  but  lead  me  in,  Erna,  the  ah*  grows 
cool!" 

The  child  carefully  guided  her  father  into 
the  tiny  sitting-room,  whose  windows  were 
wreathed  with  grape-vines  and  ivy.  He  seated 
himself  in  a  deep  arm-chair,  called  his  little 
dog  to  his  side,  and  said  in  gentler  tones: 
"  Bring  me  my  broth,  child !  " 

Erna  hastened  out,  and  soon  returned  with 


186 


FILIAL  LOVE. 


the  nourishing  food.  When  the  blind  man 
had  satisfied  his  hunger,  he  took  his  daugh- 
ter's hand  and  said :  "  Do  not  be  vexed,  my 
child,  when  I  sometimes  seem  hasty,  and  even 
unkind,  towards  you ;  my  misfortune  always 
appears  to  me  so  unutterably  heavy  when  I 
hear  the  others  rejoicing,  and  know  that  my 
whole  life  must  be  passed  in  idleness  and  pri- 
vation." 

"  O,  all  may  yet  be  well,"  said  Erna,  consol- 
ingly ;  "  nothing  is  impossible  to  God ! " 

"  Leave  me  now,  child ;  I  am  tired,  and  wish 
to  sleep  a  little." 

Erna  stepped  to  the  front  door,  and  looked 
out  over  the  landscape.  The  sun  had  gone 
down,  and  all  was  still  except  the  solemn  toll- 
ing of  the  evening  bells.  Erna  folded  her 
hands,  and  fervently  prayed  to  God  that  he 
would  restore  her  father's  sight. 

When  she  had  concluded,  she  looked  up  and 
saw  a  man  and  a  young  girl  descending  the 
hills ;  the  girl  waved  her  handkerchief,  and  has- 
tened towards  the  cottage. 

"  Is  it  you,  Minnie  ?  and  did  you  find  the 
herb?" 


THE  OFFER. 


187 


"  Certainly ;  do  you  not  see  the  dark-blue 
blossoms  ?  "  replied  Minnie.  "  I  will  make  a 
tea  of  them  which  will  quiet  mother's  nerves, 
so  that  she  may  again  sleep  soundly  as  be- 
fore." 

"  I  will  go  up  the  hili  early  to-morrow  morn- 
ing," said  Erna;  "my  father  also  desires  such 
a  plant.    Tell  me,  are  they  hard  to  find  ?  " 

"  O  yes !  we  had  nearly  given  up  all  hope  of 
finding  any,  when  I  suddenly  saw  this  one 
growing  by  the  stone  bridge ;  but  only  this 
one,  and  I  know  not  if  there  be  any  more." 

"  O,  if  I  only  thought  I  could  find  one  now," 
cried  Erna,  "  I  would  go  and  return  before  my 
father  awakes." 

"  Do  not  trouble  yourself,"  replied  Minnie, 
good-naturedly,  "  I  will  stay  with  your  father, 
and  will  lead  him  about  everywhere ;  he  likes 
me,  and  I  will  remain  until  you  return." 

"  Will  you  promise  me  that  ?  " 
I  here  pledge  you  my  hand  that  I  will  re- 
main months,  if  necessary ! "  continued  Min- 
nie, laughing. 

"  That  would  indeed  be  a  strange  neces- 
sity,"  thought  Erna,  who   then  continued 


188 


FILIAL  LOVE. 


aloud :  "  You  know  where  to  find  bread  and 
coffee  ;  and  if  I  should  really  have  trouble  in 
finding  the  plant,  and  should  not  return  until 
after  midday,  you  must  set  the  oatmeal  and 
the  remains  of  the  mutton  over  the  fire." 

"  I  will  willingly  do  so,  have  no  fear.  But 
now  I  must  hurry  home,  for  father,  who  went 
by  the  footpath,  will  have  told  of  our  success, 
and  mother  will  be  anxious  to  see  me." 

The  friends  parted,  and  Erna  re-entered  the 
house. 

Early  the  next  morning  she  was  ready  to 
set  out  on  her  journey ;  she  filled  her  little 
pocket  with  bread  and  fruit,  and  courageously 
departed  for  the  stone  bridge.  Nearly  all  the 
villagers  were  still  asleep,  but  the  sun  rose 
early,  and  his  steady  beams  illumined  the  path 
of  the  solitary  child. 

Bright  dew-drops  shone  upon  the  grasses 
and  flowers,  and  the  larks  sang  so  gayly  that 
even  Erna  felt  quite  joyous,  and  hastened  on 
her  way  warbling  a  little  song.  She  soon 
reached  the  stone  bridge,  and  busily  began  her 
search,  but  in  vain  ;  no  plant  with  green  leaves 
and  dark-blue  blossoms  met  her  view.  After 


THE  OFFER. 


189 


the  lapse  of  several  hours,  she  sat  down  upon 
the  grass,  and  drew  forth  her  little  slice  of 
bread.  At  that  moment,  Erna  saw  an  old 
woman  leaning  on  a  crutch,  coming  towards 
her;  the  ancient  dame  seemed  to  walk  with 
considerable  difficulty,  and,  when  quite  near 
Erna,  stopped  and  said :  "  Will  you  give  me 
a  piece  of  your  bread,  child  ? " 

';  Willingly,"  replied  Erna,  dividing  her 
bread  into  two  equal  portions,  of  which  she 
gave  one  to  the  stranger,  saying :  u  I  wish  I 
could  give  you  more,  but  I  shall  probably  be 
obliged  to  remain  here  myself  until  evening." 

"  And  why  so  ?  "  asked  the  old  woman,  com- 
fortably seating  herself  upon  the  grass,  and 
eating  her  bread  with  evident  appetite. 

"  O,  I  am  looking  for  the  blue-flowered  St. 
John's-wort." 

"  Which  people  say  brings  sleep  ?  " 

"  Yes,  my  good  woman." 

"  And  for  whom  then  ?  " 

"  For  my  poor,  unhappy  father,  who  has  lost 
his  eyesight." 

"  But,  child,  the  plant  will  not  restore  his 
sight." 


190 


FILIAL  LOVE. 


"  O,  I  know  that  but  too  well.  Indeed,  if 
I  could  find  anything  possessing  that  power, 
I  would  go  to  the  end  of  the  world  for  it, 
even  if  I  had  to  leave  my  life  behind." 

"  You  seem  to  be  a  good  daughter ;  but  it  is 
easier  to  talk  of  dying  than  to  do  so  in  reality." 

"  Nevertheless,  I  think  I  would  not  shun  the 
most  severe  trials,  if  I  could  only  render  my 
dear  father  happy  and  well  again ! " 

The  old  woman  rose  and  said :  "  Come 
with  me,  child,  and  I  will  help  you  to  find 
the  St.  John's-wort." 

Erna  followed  the  crippled  dame,  who  made 
her  way  through  bushes  and  brambles,  care- 
fully searching  on  all  sides,  until  at  length  she 
suddenly  cried :  "  There  is  one  !  Do  you  see 
it,  child  ?    Stoop  down  and  gather  it ! " 

Erna  bent  down  towards  the  plant ,  but  as 
she  was  eagerly  grasping  it,  the  old  woman 
laid  her  hand  upon  the  child's  head  and  mur- 
mured a  few  unintelligible  words. 

Erna  looked  up  bewildered,  her  eyelids 
drooped,  and  she  fell  into  a  deep  sleep. 

The  old  woman  clapped  her  hands  three 
times,  the  earth  opened  at  her  feet,  and  a 


THE  OFFER. 


191 


snow-white  bed,  hung  round  with  wreaths  of 
roses,  ascended  through  the  cleft.  Two  elves 
with  rose-colored  wings  followed,  and  ap- 
proached the  sleeping  Erna. 

"  Lift  the  child  gently,  and  bear  her  to  my 
kingdom,"  said  the  old  woman,  again  clapping 
her  hands.  Then  her  own  gray  dress  and 
ugly  mask  fell  to  the  ground,  and  a  lovely 
lady  in  a  robe  of  silver  gauze,  with  a  branch  of 
lilies  in  her  hand,  stood  upon  the  grassy  bank. 

She  stepped  to  the  head  of  the  bed  on 
which  Erna  lay  sleeping,  the  two  elves  knelt 
at  her  feet ;  she  lifted  her  lily  wand,  a  faint 
strain  of  sweet  music  floated  through  the  air, 
and  all  rose  softly  towards  the  clouds. 

When  Erna  awoke,  she  was  so  surprised  at 
all  around  her  that  she  rubbed  her  eyes  in  as- 
tonishment, and  fancied  she  must  be  dreaming. 
She  still  lay  upon  the  snow-white  bed,  over 
which  waved  a  canopy  of  lilies,  roses,  and 
hyacinths.  Among  the  branches  flitted  beau- 
tiful birds,  whose  songs  were  so  charming  that 
Erna  was  enraptured,  and  folded  her  hands  to 
listen.    The  warbling  of  the  birds  was  ac- 


192 


FILIAL  LOVE. 


companied  by  the  harmonious  tinkling  of  in- 
numerable little  silver  bells  half  hidden  among 
the  leaves. 

"  O  heavens  !  where  can  I  be  ?  "  cried  Erna, 
half  rising  from  the  bed. 

The  blooming  branches  parted,  and  the 
fairy  queen  entered,  saying  with  a  gentle  voice 
to  the  astonished  maiden :  "  I  am  the  queen  of 
the  fairies,  and  I  have  long  watched  over  you. 
I  saw  the  care  and  love  which  you  bestowed 
upon  your  poor  father,  and  heard  the  fervent 
prayer  which  you  addressed  to  Heaven.  Only 
a  few  hours  since,  I  heard  you  say  that  no 
sacrifice  would  be  too  great  to  offer  for  the 
restoration  of  your  father's  sight,  and  that  you 
would  even  be  willing  to  lay  down  your  life  for 
him.    Is  this  indeed  true  ?  " 

"  O  gracious  queen ! "  cried  Erna,  sinking 
upon  her  knees,  "  tell  me,  is  there  any  possi- 
bility of  aiding  him  ?  " 

"  There  is  one  thing,  my  child,  which  would 
avail ;  but  however  great  my  power  may  be,  I 
cannot  procure  it  for  you ;  it  can  only  be  won 
through  sacrifice  and  self-denial.  Tell  me,  do 
you  feel  strong  enough  to  suffer  everything  ?  " 


THE  OFFER. 


193 


"  Everything,  if  I  alone  am  to  suffer ! "  cried 
Erna. 

"  You  alone,"  replied  the  fairy ;  "  and  my 
aid  will  not  be  wanting  if  you  show  yourself 
worthy  of  it.  Listen  then.  There  is  a  place 
which  I  may  not  name  to  you,  a  narrow  valley 
amid  the  hills,  containing  a  beautiful  fountain 
springing  from  a  marble  basin  ;  the  water  is  of 
a  bright  rose-color,  and  a  few  drops  suffice  to 
restore  sight  to  the  blind.  I  will  give  you  a 
guide  to  lead  you  to  the  valley ;  but  the  dis- 
tance is  very  great,  and  you  will  meet  with 
many  difficulties  :  faith  and  courage  alone  can 
overcome  them.  Here  is  a  little  silver  tablet 
covered  with  spots  of  rust  and  verdigris.  At 
the  end  of  each  day  during  which  you  have 
been  good  and  obedient,  some  of  the  spots 
will  pass  away,  and  every  good  thought  will 
aid  in  rendering  the  silver  tablet  clearer  and 
brighter.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  every  ex- 
pression of  ill-temper  or  anger,  of  impatience 
or  selfishness,  will  add  new  and  darker  stains, 
as  will  also  all  tears  springing  not  from  the  pure 
sources  of  love,  longing,  or  compassion.  When 
the  last  spot  has  vanished,  you  will  be  at  your 

13 


194 


FILIAL  LOVE. 


journey's  end;  but  no  power  can  bring  you 
there  before,  and  the  way  back  is  very  easy." 

"  O,  I  will  willingly  go ! "  cried  Erna.  "  God 
will  protect  me !  But  who  will  take  care  of 
my  dear  father  ?  " 

"  Minnie  has  promised  you  to  remain 
months,  if  necessary.  It  is  true  the  promise 
was  made  in  jest,  but  it  will  not  be  the  less 
truly  kept.  I  will  myself  seek  to  console  your 
father  for  your  absence.  My  elves  will  now 
show  you  the  glories  of  my  kingdom ;  but 
when  you  lie  down  to  rest  this  evening,  you 
must  take  leave  of  all  the  beauty  you  have 
seen,  for  you  will  awake  to-morrow  morning 
again  upon  the  earth,  and  in  the  exact  spot 
where  you  went  to  sleep.  You  must  then 
cross  to  the  other  side  of  the  hill,  whither  my 
messenger  will  guide  you." 

Erna  fell  upon  her  knees  and  thankfully 
kissed  the  fairy-queen's  hand.  The  good 
elf  graciously  raised  her  and  said :  "  Do  not 
thank  me  too  soon !  You  are  not  yet  at  the 
goal ;  the  way  is  long,  and  the  sacrifices  great ; 
if  you  fail,  and  lose  your  patience  or  endur- 
ance, no  one  can  aid  you.  But  now  you 
must  survey  my  kingdom." 


THE  OFFER. 


195 


She  took  Erna's  hand  and  led  her  from  the 
bower. 

A  cry  of  delight  escaped  the  child's  lips  as 
her  eyes  fell  upon  the  beauty  around  her.  The 
little  paths  leading  through  the  groves  and 
gardens  were  all  strewed  with  gold-dust  min- 
gled with  diamonds.  The  fruits  on  the  trees 
were  partially  such  as  Erna  had  never  before 
seen,  such  as  figs,  bananas,  oranges,  and  pome- 
granates, and  partially  of  colored  crystal  and 
precious  stones. 

Parrots  with  bright  top-knots  and  pleasant 
voices  (unlike  those  of  ordinary  parrots)  flitted 
from  branch  to  branch.  Humming-birds  of  all 
colors  stretched  out  their  little  necks  and  long 
bills  inquiringly  toward  the  birds  of  paradise 
sitting  on  the  tree-tops,  and  filling  the  whole 
air  with  melodious  songs.  Little  grottos,  with 
crystal  walls  and  mossy'  floors,  offered  quiet 
and  cool  retreats,  while  sparkling  fountains, 
pouring  from  white  marble  basins,  bathed  the 
feet  of  innumerable  singing  birds  which  were 
sporting  about  the  clear  and  shining  waters. 

"  Does  it  please  you  ?  "  asked  the  good-na- 
tured fairy,  smiling  at  Erna's  wonder. 


196 


FILIAL  LOVE. 


The  child  scarcely  ventured  to  breathe,  fear- 
ing to  lose  any  of  the  marvellous  sights  which 
met  her  delighted  gaze. 

"  You  may  go  and  taste  the  fruit,  and  fill 
your  pockets  with  it,  in  return  for  the  bread  you 
gave  me  when  you  took  me  for  an  old  woman." 

Erna  did  as  she  was  bidden ;  and  when  she 
had  satisfied  her  hunger  and  filled  her  pockets, 
they  continued  their  way. 

They  came  at  length  to  a  smooth,  green 
lawn,  encircled  by  a  blooming  hedge,  emitting 
a  delightful  perfume.  On  the  green  danced  a 
multitude  of  fairies,  waving  wreaths  of  flowers, 
and  singing  gay  songs. 

Erna  gazed  in  speechless  delight  upon  their 
graceful  forms,  until  finally  the  fairy-queen, 
taking  her  by  the  hand,  led  her  back  to  the 
little  bower  in  which  she  had  first  awakened 
in  fairy-land.  When  Erna  had  laid  her  down 
to  rest  upon  the  little  bed,  the  fairy  said  : 
"  Sleep  well,  my  child,  we  will  protect  thee  !  " 
She  then  touched  the  maiden  with  her  lily 
wand,  and  Erna  fell  into  a  deep  slumber. 

The  darkness  of  night  had  meanwhile  cov- 


THE  OFFER. 


197 


ered  the  earth,  and  Erna's  father  sat  in  his 
little  room  sorrowing  over  the  prolonged  ab- 
sence of  his  child. 

"  Be  consoled,  Father  Berthold,"  said  Min- 
nie, taking  his  hand.  "  Erna  will  soon  return  ; 
the  moon  is  up,  and  will  enlighten  her  path- 
way. The  distance  is  great,  and  the  plant 
which  you  desired  very  hard  to  find." 

"  O,  how  I  wish  I  had  never  expressed  a  de- 
sire for  it ! "  groaned  the  blind  man.  "  Who 
knows  what  evil  may  have  befallen  my  poor 
child!" 

"  Do  not  fear ;  Erna  knows  the  neighbor- 
hood well,  and  God  always  takes  care  of  good 
children." 

"  That  is  true ! "  said  Berthold,  somewhat 
consoled. 

"  And  see  ! "  continued  Minnie  gayly ;  "  it 
is  said  that  good  little  fairies  dwell  on  the 
hill-tops,  and  they  may  perhaps  aid  Erna  in 
finding  many  precious  plants  wherewith  to 
surprise  you ! " 

"  You  are  a  dear,  good  girl,  Minnie ! "  said 
the  blind  man,  smiling;  "but  now  go  and  bring 
me  my  supper." 


198 


FILIAL  LOVE. 


Minnie  went.  Scarcely  had  she  left  the 
room  when  the  walls  opened,  and  light  beamed 
for  an  instant  upon  the  darkened  eyes  of  the 
invalid.  He  saw  a  lovely  figure  floating  be- 
fore him,  and  heard  a  gentle  voice  saying: 
"  Wait  patiently  until  Erna  returns  !  You 
will  see  her  again,  but  do  not  ask  when.  It 
is  love  to  you  which  now  parts  her  from  your 
side." 

A  moment  after,  Berthold's  eyes  again  closed 
in  darkness,  but  the  light  had  descended  into 
his  heart. 

Minnie  brought  his  supper ;  the  blind  man 
seized  her  hand,  and  gently  asked :  "  Will  you 
remain  with  me,  child,  until  Erna  returns  ?  I 
have  just  had  news  of  her,  but  it  will  probably 
be  a  long  time^before  she  again  enters  her 
home." 

Minnie  gazed  on  the  blind  man  in  astonish- 
ment, but  asked  no  questions.  After  a  pause, 
she  said  :  "  J  will  remain  with  you ;  I  promised 
Erna  to  do  so.  My  parents  have  my  sisters, 
and  do  not  need  my  aid." 

And  Minnie  remained. 


CHAPTER  II. 


THE  TRIAL. 


When  Erna  again  opened  her  eyes,  a  rosy- 
streak  in  the  east  announced  the  dawn.  She 
lay  on  a  mossy  bank  beside  the  stone  bridge 
where  she  had  on  the  previous  day  met  the 
old  woman.  The  child  would  have  thought 
it  all  a  dream,  had  it  not  been  for  a  silver  tab- 
let hanging  round  her  neck. 

Erna  rose  quickly  and  said  to  herself:  "  Cour- 
age, then,  for  there  is  a  way  to  render  my  father 
well  and  happy.  O,  where  can  the  guide  be 
which  is  to  lead  me  to  the  blessed  fountain  ?  " 

At  that  moment  she  heard  a  faint  twitter- 
ing ;  she  looked  up  and  perceived  a  snow- 
white  dove  sitting  on  a  neighboring  branch. 
The  bird  sang:  — 


200 


FILIAL  LOVE. 


"  Follow  me ! 
Day  and  night 
Lead  I  thee, 
Still  aright ! 

"  Never  fear, 
For  thy  friend 
Will  be  near, 
To  the  end!" 

The  dove  flew  three  times  round  the  maid- 
en's head,  and  then  winged  its  way  to  the  top 
of  the  hill. 

Erna  cast  a  last  look  toward  her  home,  now 
brightened  by  the  rays  of  the  morning  sun. 
"  Farewell,  father  ! "  whispered  she,  deeply 
moved,  as  she  waved  a  long  adieu  to  her 
native  village.  The  child  turned  and  followed 
her  guide,  which  rapidly  descended  into  the 
opposite  valley. 

She  passed  through  green  meadows,  and 
luxuriant  grain-fields,  with  pleasant  villages 
on  either  hand.  Towards  midday,  however, 
the  sun  shone  down  oppressively  upon  Erna's 
unprotected  head.  Tired  and  hungry,  she 
seated  herself  upon  the  grass,  and  for  the  first 
time  recollected  that  she  had  nothing  to  eat 


ERNA    AND   THE  DOVE 


THE  TRIAL* 


201 


Remembering  the  fairy  fruit,  she  put  her  hand 
in  her  pocket,  but  found  nothing  but  glittering 
stones.  Although  she  would  have  much  pre- 
ferred a  slice  of  brown  bread,  not  a  word  of 
complaint  passed  her  lips ;  on  the  contrary, 
she  patiently  said  to  herself :  "  I  will  rest  a 
moment,  and  then  seek  some  village,  where 
surely  no  one  will  deny  me  a  piece  of  bread." 

The  dove  alighted  on  her  shoulder,  hid  its 
head  under  its  wing,  and  slept. 

Both  rested  thus  during  a  half-hour.  Erna 
then  arose,  and  the  dove  recommenced  its 
flight.  A  village  was  soon  reached,  the  little 
traveller  approached  the  first  house,  and  begged 
a  woman,  who  sat  in  the  door-way  spinning, 
for  some  bread. 

The  young  woman  cheerfully  rose,  opened  a 
closet,  and  while  she  spread  a  slice  of  brown 
bread  with  fresh  butter,  said :  "  Where  is  your 
home,  little  girl  ?  " 

"  On  the  other  side  of  the  hill,"  replied  Erna, 
receiving  the  bread  with  a  thankful  glance. 

"  Poor  child !  you  must  have  walked  at  least 
nine  hours ;  do  not  your  feet  hurt  you  ?  " 

"  O,  not  much,  dear  lady!  the  road  is  good, 
and  I  am  strong  and  healthy." 


202 


FILIAL  LOVE. 


"  And  how  far  have  you  yet  to  go  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  very  far,  and  perhaps  I  may  soon 
be  able  to  return.'' 

"  You  are  then  seeking  some  one  ?  " 

Erna  looked  embarrassed,  but  finally  said : 
"  O  yes,  I  seek  much  ! " 

"  God  be  with  you,  poor  child ! "  continued 
the  kind-hearted  woman ;  "  I  understand  that 
you  cannot  or  ought  not  to  tell  me  the  aim 
of  your  journey,  but  I  see  drops  of  blood  on 
your  white  stockings  ;  if  your  feet  are  sore, 
you  may  come  in  and  remain  with  us  until 
they  are  quite  well  again." 

"  I  thank  you,  but  I  cannot  stay ! "  said 
Erna,  offering  the  good  woman  her  little  hand. 

The  latter  wrapped  up  a  few  slices  of  bread 
and  meat,  which  she  placed  in  the  child's 
pocket,  and  then  accompanied  her  to  the  gar- 
den gate,  where  they  parted. 

"  O,  I  do  not  get  on  so  badly,"  thought 
Erna,  rejoiced  at  this  kind  reception;  but  a 
moment  after,  she  stumbled  and  nearly  fell; 
her  feet  were  very  sore,  and  burned  like  fire. 

The  dove  flew  down  from  its  station  on  a 
linden,  and  gently  cooed  as  it  led  the  way. 


THE  TRIAL. 


203 


Towards  evening,  Erna  saw  a  noble  castle 
standing  before  her,  with  every  pane  in  the 
lofty  windows  gilded  by  the  rays  of  the  setting 
sun. 

From  the  castle  gate  issued  a  brilliant  train 
of  knights  and  dames  on  horseback.  A  beau- 
tiful lady  on  a  snow-white  steed  led  the  pro- 
cession ;  she  wore  a  blue  velvet  habit,  and  a 
cap  adorned  with  feathers  and  diamonds. 

Erna  looked  up  in  amazement,  but  at  the 
same  moment  perceived  a  woman  lying  in  the 
middle  of  the  road,  and  in  evident  danger  of 
being  trampled  on  by  the  train  of  riders,  as 
they  did  not  seem  to  have  noticed  her. 

Erna  knelt  at  her  side,  and,  lifting  her  hands 
imploringly  toward  the  lady,  cried :  "  O  help, 
noble  lady !  the  poor  woman  is  dying ! " 

"  What  does  the  girl  want  ?  "  cried  the  lady 
to  one  of  the  gentlemen. 

The  latter  said,  roughly  :  "  Stand  aside,  beg- 
gar !  you  are  in  our  way !  " 

Poor  Erna  strove  to  lift  the  peasant-wo- 
man's heavy  body,  but  in  vain;  the  weight 
was  too  great,  and  her  arms  fell  powerless  at 
her  side. 


204 


FILIAL  LOVE. 


"  Will  you  get  out  of  the  way  ? "  repeated 
the  horseman. 

"  I  cannot,  sir!  Let  one  of  your  people  dis- 
mount and  aid  me  to  bear  away  this  poor  wo- 
man ;  I  cannot  lift  her  without  assistance." 

The  lady  laughed  aloud,  urged  her  horse  for- 
ward, and  came  rapidly  toward  Erna  and  the 
still  unconscious  peasant, 

Erna  uttered  a  loud  cry  of  horror  when  she 
saw  the  whole  troop  coming  down  upon  her ; 
she  raised  her  eyes  to  heaven,  extended  her 
arms  over  the  helpless  form  of  the  fainting  wo- 
man, and  courageously  awaited  her  fate. 

The  wild  troop  came  galloping  on,  but  not 
a  single  hoof  touched  the  child,  who  still  leaned 
trembling  and  exhausted  over  the  peasant- wo- 
man. When  she  again  raised  her  eyes,  eques- 
trians, peasant,  and  castle  had  all  vanished, 
and  she  lay  upon  a  grassy  bank,  with  the  sun 
quietly  sinking  beneath  the  horizon. 

"It  was  only  a  trial!"  said  she  *to  herself; 
and  a  look  upon  her  silver  tablet  convinced  her 
that  she  had  well  endured  the  test,  for  lo !  one 
side  showed  a  diminished  number  of  stains, 
and  began  to  look  quite  bright  and  shining. 


THE  TRIAL. 


205 


It  soon  became  too  dark  to  proceed.  Erna 
could  no  longer  see  the  dove,  and  she  was  be- 
sides so  weary,  that  she  felt  rest  to  be  abso- 
lutely necessary.  No  village  was  in  sight,  not 
even  the  faintest  light  to  show  the  vicinity  of 
a  dwelling. 

"  I  will  stay  here  and  try  to  sleep ! "  said  the 
lonely  girl  to  herself ;  "  the  air  is  mild,  and 
will  do  me  no  harm  ! " 

When  Erna  had  finished  her  evening  prayer, 
she  fearlessly  laid  her  down  to  rest,  and  slept 
soundly.  The  dove  watched  her  slumbers  for 
a  short  time,  and  then,  hiding  its  little  head 
under  its  downy  wing,  followed  her  example. 

The  next  morning  the  sun  shone  bright  and 
clear  upon  Erna's  mossy  couch  ;  she  rose,  and 
was  soon  ready  to  proceed. 

Meadows,  fields,  and  villages  bordered  the 
way  as  before,  and  appeared  in  endless  suc- 
cession. 

Toward  noon,  when  the  heat  of  the  sun  had 
forced  Erna  to  take  a  little  rest,  she  perceived 
that  the  whole  sky  was  rapidly  being  obscured 
by  heavy,  black  clouds.  A  violent  wind  soon 
followed,  whirling  leaves  and  dust  high  into 


206 


FILIAL  LOVE. 


the  air.  The  birds  anxiously  sought  the  shel- 
ter of  their  little  nests. 

Erna  also  looked  about  her  for  a  place  of 
safety,  but  the  nearest  village  was  still  a  mile 
distant,  and  the  storm  seemed  momentarily 
about  to  burst  upon  her  defenceless  head. 

Erna  hurried  on ;  the  faithful  dove  flew  rap- 
idly before  her ;  but  the  village  seemed  as  far 
distant  as  ever,  although  the  poor  child  had 
long  before  been  able  to  distinguish  its  red- 
tiled  roofs  amid  the  green  foliage  of  the  trees. 

Great  drops  of  rain  fell  upon  Erna's  heated 
face ;  she  tied  her  kerchief  over  her  head  and 
hastened  on ;  the  thunder  rolled,  and  the  light- 
ning flashed  through  the  dark  vault  of  the 
heavens.  Erna  gazed  sadly  and  timidly  to- 
ward the  place  where  she  had  seen  the  village, 
but  she  must  have  lost  her  way,  for  nothing 
was  visible  but  a  dark  wood  and  some  deso- 
late fields.  The  child  cried  loudly  for  help, 
but  no  sound  save  the  crashing  of  the  thunder 
and  the  whistling  of  the  wind  fell  upon  her 
ears.  She  turned  to  the  right,  and  then  to  the 
left,  but  the  red  tiles  had  all  vanished. 

The  rain  poured  in  torrents ;  Erna's  clothes 


THE  TRIAL. 


207 


were  dripping,  and  her  long  hair  clung  to  her 
temples,  and  fell  in  wet  and  clammy  masses 
over  her  shoulders.  She  thought  she  must 
have  been  running  for  hours. 

"  Ah !  how  comfortable  and  pleasant  must 
it  now  be  at  home ! "  thought  she.  But  then 
the  image  of  her  blind  father  entered  her  mind, 
and  gave  her  renewed  strength  and  endurance. 

"  But  how  fortunate  it  is,"  continued  she  to 
herself,  "  that  I  know  you,  dear,  good  father, 
to  be  safe  and  sound  in  our  own  little  house ! 
Surely,  Minnie  will  take  good  care  of  you,  and 
you  will  know  that  we  are  one  day  to  meet 
again  ! " 

She  had  not  uttered  one  word  aloud,  but, 
arresting  her  fruitless  course,  she  had  taken  the 
poor,  wet  dove  into  her  hands  to  warm  and 
dry  it,  when  lo !  the  little  creature,  which  had 
not  spoken  a  word  since  its  first  song,  began 
to  warble :  — 

"  Take  courage,  child  ! 

The  storm  is  wild, 
But  joy  will  come  at  last ! 

And  every  trace 

Of  grief  efface, 
'Mid  smiles  at  dangers  past !  " 


208 


FILIAL  LOVE. 


"  Dear  little  comforter ! "  said  Erna,  pressing 
the  wonderful  bird  to  her  bosom.  She  then 
patiently  sat  down  upon  the  grass  to  await 
whatever  might  befall. 

The  storm  gradually  ceased,  the  sky  became 
clear,  and  Erna  again  perceived  the  red  roofs 
of  the  village  rising  behind  a  neighboring  grove 
of  willows.  She  joyfully  rose,  and,  approach- 
ing the  first  house,  knocked  gently  at  the  door, 
for  the  poor  child  was  tired  and  hungry,  and 
i  her  clothes  were  still  dripping  with  the  rain. 

"  Who  is  there  ?  "  asked  a  harsh  voice. 

Erna  timidly  entered,  and  found  herself  in  a 
wide  hall,  which  looked  desolate  and  uninvit- 
ing. A  man  of  forbidding  aspect  came  to- 
wards her,  and  asked  her  what  she  wanted. 

"  Ah,  sir !  I  was  out  in  the  storm,  and  have 
come  to  ask  permission  to  dry  my  clothes." 

"  Where  do  you  come  from,  girl  ? "  asked 
the  man. 

"  O,  very  far  from  here,  good  man ;  my  home 
is  on  the  other  side  of  the  mountain." 

"  And  what  do  you  want  ?  " 

"  Nothing  but  a  shelter  until  I  can  dry  my 
clothes,"  was  the  timid  answer.  "  In  one  hour 
I  must  again  depart !  " 


THE  TRIAL. 


209 


"  You  are  nothing  but  a  worthless  vagabond 
of  a  beggar !  "  cried  the  man,  roughly.  "  But 
take  care !  I  am  the  constable  of  the  place,  and 
if  you  dare  to  repeat  your  demand  to  any  one 
else  in  the  village,  I  will  put  you  into  the 
town-house,  and  teach  you  how  to  beg  again. 
OfT  with  you !  we  have  plenty  such  as  you  are 
among  us,  and  need  no  foreign  importations ! " 

"  O,  I  am  so  tired  that  I  can  go  no  farther' " 
said  Erna,  despairingly. 

"  Have  you  a  mind  to  rest  in  the  town-house, 
hey  ?  "  angrily  cried  the  man 

Erna  stretched  out  her  hands  imploringly, 
but  in  vain;  she  was  forced  to  continue  her 
journey  without  bread  and  without  rest. 

As  she  came  near  the  end  of  the  village, 
she  saw  a  young  girl  sitting  and  sewing  in 
an  open  door-way.  She  was  singing  a  lullaby, 
and  at  the  same  time  rocking  a  cradle  with 
her  foot.  On  the  lower  limb  of  a  fruit-tree 
growing  near  the  house  sat  a  boy  of  about 
six  years  old,  who  was  gathering  pears.  Every 
now  and  then  he  would  attract  his  sister's 
attention  by  throwing  a  pear  at  her  feet,  when 
she  would  look  up  and  playfully  threaten  him 

14 


210 


FILIAL  LOVE. 


with  her  finger,  "a  gesture  which  seemed  to 
afford  the  lively  boy  endless  amusement. 

Erna  stood  a  few  moments  gazing  upon  this 
charming  scene,  and  then,  raising  her  hands, 
held  them  out  beseechingly  towards  the  kind- 
looking  little  girl. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  poor  child  ? "  com- 
passionately asked  the  girl.  "  Your  clothes 
are  all  wet,  and  you  look  pale  and  weary ! " 

"  Ah,  I  am  very  tired ! "  cried  Erna.  "  O,  be 
pitiful,  and  grant  me  a  few  moments'  rest  and 
a  little  bread !    I  will  not  trouble  you  long." 

"  Come  here,  child!  I  will  give  you  some- 
thing to  eat,  and  while  I  dry  your  clothes  at 
the  fire,  you  can  put  on  a  suit  of  mine,  which 
it  is  true  will  be  rather  long  and  loose  for 
you,  but  never  mind  that!" 

The  proposition  was  at  once  accepted. 
The  kind  girl,  whose  name  was  Hannah, 
dressed  Erna  in  a  green  woollen  gown  and 
a  crimson  apron,  and  then,  hanging  the  wet 
garments  before  the  fire,  said :  "  You  look 
lovely  now,  and  while  your  broth  is  cooking, 
we  will  go  to  the  door  and  rock  Johnny,  for 
you  must  know  that  my  parents  are  absent 


THE  TRIAL. 


211 


to-day,  and  have  left  me  to  keep  house. 
Christopher,"  cried  she  to  the  little  pear-gath- 
erer, "come  down  and  bring  father's  arm- 
chair out  here  for  the  little  girl  to  sit  in ;  the 
sun  is  still  warm,  and  Erna  can  rest  herself  in 
the  door-way  with  us." 

"  O  how  good  you  are,  Hannah ! "  cried 
Erna,  gratefully. 

The  chair  was  brought,  the  tired  child 
rested  her  weary  limbs  upon  the  soft  cushions, 
and  eagerly  ate  the  savory  broth  and  smoking 
potatoes  which  were  soon  placed  before  her. 

Christopher,  who  had  meanwhile  been  ex- 
amining Erna  intently,  finally  produced  a  little 
basket  of  pears,  and  said  :  "  Put  some  in  your 
pocket  and  take  them  with  you ;  Christopher 
will  willingly  give  them  to  you." 

He  therefore  turned  her  pockets  upside 
down,  and  lo!  the  stone  fruits  rolled  out. 

"  O,  what  pretty  glass  ! "  cried  the  brother 
and  sister. 

Erna  took  a  fig  made  of  some  dark-blue 
stone,  and,  giving  it  to  Hannah,  said :  "  Take 
this  in  return  for  the  kindness  you  have  be- 
stowed upon  me." 


212 


FILIAL  LOVE. 


"  O,  do  not  speak  of  that !  "  said  Hannah ; 
"  I  only  did  what  every  one  should  do  to  a 
fellow-creature ! " 

"  Well,  then,  keep  it  as  a  remembrance  from 
me ! "  begged  Erna. 

"  O  yes,  I  will  willingly  do  that ! " 

"  And  if  you  should  ever  be  in  want,"  con- 
tinued Erna,  "you  must  try  to  sell  it,  for  I 
believe  it  to  be  worth  more  than  either  of  us 
comprehend." 

Hannah  laughed  incredulously,  but  said 
nothing,  and  placed  the  blue  fig  in  a  little 
box  in  which  she  kept  all  her  treasures,  —  a 
chain  with  a  silver  locket,  and  a  black-mo- 
rocco prayer-book. 

Johnny  then  awoke,  and  making  friends 
with  Erna,  who  took  him  in  her  arms,  gayly 
laughed  as  she  danced  him  up  and  down. 
Erna  by  this  time  felt  perfectly  at  home,  and 
had  almost  forgotten  her  journey,  when  the 
village-clock  struck  five.  She  quickly  rose,  laid 
Johnny  in  his  cradle,  offered  Hannah  her  hand, 
and  said :  "  Farewell !  God  bless  .you  for  the 
refreshment  which .  you  have  bestowed  upon 
me!" 


THE  TRIAL. 


213 


"  O,  do  not  go  yet !  "  begged  Hannah  ;  "  the 
storm  may  return  during  the  night,  and  you 
will  then  be  alone  and  without  shelter." 

Erna  hesitated  ;  she  thought  of  all  the  hard- 
ships and  anxiety  she  had  endured  during  the 
morning,  but  the  image  of  her  blind  father 
rose  in  her  mind  and  encouraged  her  to  pro- 
ceed, for  she  could  still  make  use  of  the  re- 
maining hours  of  the  day  in  pursuing  her 
journey,  and  thus  shorten  the  time  necessary 
for  the  attainment  of  her  object. 

"  I  must  go,  dear  Hannah ;  but  I  will  visit 
you  on  my  return,  and  perhaps  beg  your  good 
mother  for  a  night's  lodging !  " 

"  Do  so,"  replied  Hannah,  who  quickly  wrap- 
ped up  a  little  parcel  of  bread  and  cheese, 
which  she  placed  in  Erna's  pocket,  and  then 
took  as  tender  a  leave  of  her  new  friend  as  if 
they  had  known  each  other  for  years.  Chris- 
topher loaded  Erna  with  as  many  pears  as 
she  could  carry,  and  accompanied  her  to  the 
limits  of  the  village. 

Erna  felt  quite  refreshed,  and  walked  on 
during  several  hours ;  for  the  days  in  that 
latitude  are  very  long  in  June. 


214 


FILIAL  LOVE. 


Late  in  the  evening  she  reached  a  little 
town,  whose  usually  quiet  streets  were  en- 
livened by  the  presence  of  many  strangers, 
attracted  thither  by  the  annual  fair,  and  by 
the  innumerable  booths  which  had  been 
erected  for  the  display  of  gay  stuffs,  kerchiefs, 
ribbons,  cakes,  candies,  &c. 

Erna  found  much  difficulty  in  making  her 
way  through  the  crowd,  until  she  finally  stop- 
ped before  a  shop  where  handsomely  dressed 
dolls  and  other  toys  were  exposed  for  sale. 

She  looked  without  envy  upon  the  children 
who  were  issuing  from  the  gay  store,  with 
their  hands  full  of  presents  bestowed  on  them 
by  their  parents ;  she  rejoiced  in  their  bright 
faces  and  joyful  demeanor. 

"What  is  the  child  gaping  at?"  suddenly 
asked  the  store-keeper,  a  tall,  thin  man,  with 
a  sharp  voice. 

Erna  blushed,  and  turned  to  depart. 

a  What !  not  even  an  answer  ?  "  cried  the 
man,  seizing  her  by  the  shoulder.  "  Is  that 
a  proper  way  for  such  a  chit  to  treat  an  old 
man  ?  " 

"  I  did  not  know  what  to   say,"  replied 


THE  TRIAL. 


215 


Erna,  "  and  as  my  standing  here  seemed  to 
annoy  you,  I  concluded  to  go  away ! " 

"  Concluded  to  go  away !  Just  listen  to  the 
saucy  little  thing !  How  she  talks !  One  may 
endure  such  behavior  from  a  lady,  but  by  no 
means  from  such  a  little  tattered  beggar-girl ! " 

Erna  looked  sadly  down  upon  her  clothes. 
The  man  was  right ;  she  did  look  forlorn,  for 
the  brambles  through  which  she  had  been 
forced  to  make  her  way  had  torn  her  clothes 
in  many  places,  and  the  rain  had  nearly  washed 
all  the  color  from  her  brown  stuff  dress. 

"  What  is  the  matter  here  ?  "  asked  the  deep 
bass  voice  of  a  man  wearing  the  uniform  of 
the  police,  whose  hard  features  gave  evidence 
that  he  was  no  mild  official. 

"  Look  for  yourself,  Mr.  Joost,  and  you  will 
see  that  I  was  right  in  seizing  upon  this  little 
personage !  She  has  been  standing  here  half 
an  hour  ogling  my  dolls,  bestowing  her  espe- 
cial countenance  upon  that  lady  in  the  crim- 
son satin,  and  looking  so  affectionately  upon 
my  wares  that  I  was  really  afraid  to  turn  my 
back,  for  no  one  can  know  what  such  little 
vagabonds  may  do ! " 


216 


FILIAL  LOVE. 


Erna  blushed ;  the  poor  child  understood 
Master  Jack's  insinuation,  and,  pressing  her 
hand  to  her  eyes,  sighed  deeply. 

"  Come,  come,  child !  don't  cry,"  said  Mr. 
Joost ;  "  no  one  can  hurt  you.  if  you  have  only 
been  gazing  upon  those  silly  dollies ;  let  me 
search  your  pockets,  and  if  I  find  nothing  sus- 
picious there,  you  may  go." 

Erna  immediately  offered  her  pockets  for 
inspection.  Master  Jack  held  a  lamp  to  facili- 
tate the  operation,  and  looked  highly  pleased 
when  the  policeman  drew  forth  the  glittering 
stone  fruit. 

"  What  kind  of  toys  do  you  call  these, 
Miss  ?  "  asked  Joost,  sharply. 

Erna  grew  pale,  and  knew  not  what  to  say. 

"  Hi !  hi !  we  have  it  now ! "  laughed  Master 
Jack. 

"  Will  you  be  quiet  ? "  said  Joost  to  the 
store-keeper ;  "  the  glass  bullets  do  not  belong 
to  you,  and  you  have  no  business  to  meddle 
in  what  does  not  concern  you!  As  for  you, 
child,  you  must  follow  me  to  the  police-office, 
where  you  shall  have  a  hearing." 

"  O  good  sir !  "  implored  Erna,  "  I  swear  to 
you  that  the  stones  were  given  to  me." 


THE  TRIAL. 


217 


"  You  must  prove  that  at  the  office ;  this  is 
not  the  place  for  such  oaths." 

"  Ah !  you  will  surely  be  merciful,  and  not 
shut  me  up  with  criminals  ! " 

"  Silly  stuff!  If  you  think  yourself  so  inno- 
cent, so  much  the  better  for  you ;  but  now 
march  along  with  me !  Where  is  your  pass- 
port?" 

"  Good  sir,  I  have  no  passport ! "  cried  Erna, 
weeping. 

"  Well,  what  did  I  tell  you,  Mr.  Joost  ? " 
grinned  the  shopkeeper. 

"  Take  care  of  yourself,  and  of  your  own 
doll  faces,  Master  Jack;  I  am  quite  sufficient 
to  take  care  of  the  child." 

So  saying,  he  seized  Erna's  hand  and  led  her 
along  with  him. 

Although  it  was  quite  late,  yet  a  crowd  of 
curious  persons  assembled  round  the  poor, 
weeping  girl,  who  tightly  pressed  her  hands 
over  her  eyes,  and  broke  out  into  loud  sobs, 
when  she  heard  a  voice  in  the  crowd  say : 
"  So  young,  and  already  a  thief ! "  This  was 
the  hardest  trial  of  all. 

The  police-office,  a  great  gloomy  building, 


218 


FILIAL  LOVE. 


was  finally  reached.  Erna  followed  the  ser- 
vant of  the  law  into  a  little  side-room,  where 
he  said  to  her :  "  Out  of  regard  to  your  youth, 
and  that  you  may  not  pass  the  night  in  bad 
company,  I  will  leave  you  here,  alone.  Here 
is  a  piece  of  bread  and  a  pitcher  of  water  for 
your  supper.  You  will  have  a  hearing  early 
to-morrow  morning,  and  if  you  can  prove  your 
innocence,  you  may  go  free." 

"  O,  but  the  shame  will  always  cling  to 
me  !  "  wept  Erna. 

"  Don't  be  silly,  child,  and  learn  prudence 
for  the  future ;  what  can  such  a  little  thing 
as  you  be  doing  in  a  strange  city  without  a 
passport  V9 

"  O,  you  do  not  know  why  I  left  my  home ! " 
wept  the  forsaken  girl. 

"  You  must  tell  that  to  the  judge  to-morrow ; 
but  now  you  must  go  to  sleep,  for  it  is  nearly 
ten  o'clock." 

The  man  then  extinguished  the  light,  and 
left  Erna  alone  in  the  dark  cell ;  she  felt  about 
with  her  hands  until  she  found  the  little  straw 
pallet  which  lay  in  the  corner  of  the  room. 
Although  she  was  very  weary  and  very  sor- 


THE  TRIAL. 


219 


rowful,  she  did  not  forget  her  prayers ;  on  the 
contrary,  she  said  them  with  redoubled  fervor, 
for  experience  had  already  taught  her  that 
nothing  can  so  relieve  an  oppressed  spirit  as 
humble  prayer. 

She  had  scarcely  closed  her  eyes  when  she 
heard  a  strange  whispering  round  her  bed  ;  but 
she  was  too  tired  to  feel  curious,  and  was  soon 
fast  asleep.  She  dreamed  that  the  walls  of  her 
prison  opened,  that  the  darkness  was  all  tinged 
with  rosy  light,  and  that,  instead  of  straw,  she 
slept  upon  a  bed  of  roses  and  lilies.  Soft 
melodies  floated  round  her,  and  so  soothed  the 
poor,  forsaken  child,  that  her  lips  parted  in  a 
happy  smile.  Erna  furthermore  saw  in  her 
dream  how  the  fairy-queen  stepped  out  of  a 
white  lily-bell  and  approached  her  bed.  She 
felt  a  light  kiss  upon  her  brow,  and  then  heard 
a  gentle  voice  saying  :  "  Be  patient,  the  time 
for  rest  is  at  hand  ! " 

Then  two  elves  lifted,  as  before,  the  maiden's 
couch  from  the  earth,  and  rose  with  it  towards 
the  clouds.  The  city  lay  far  below,  still  shroud- 
ed in  darkness,  and  vale  and  hill  rapidly  van- 
ished from  Erna's  view. 


220 


FILIAL  LOVE. 


Erna  fancied  all  this  to  be  merely  a  dream, 
but  her  first  glance,  when  she  awoke  in  the 
morning,  convinced  her  of  her  mistake.  She 
lay  upon  a  soft  mossy  bank  at  the  foot  of  a 
mountain,  over  whose  summit  the  morning  sun 
was  just  rising. 

Town,  prison,  and  judge  had  all  vanished, 
and  with  them  the  child's  anxiety.  She  cour- 
ageously began  to  ascend  the  mountain,  the 
dove,  as  usual,  flying  on  before. 

The  way  soon  became  wearisome  and  diffi- 
cult ;  the  steep  rocks  rose  so  precipitously,  that 
Erna  was  often  forced  to  cling  to  them  with 
both  hands  to  keep  herself  from  falling.  The 
loose  stones  frequently  rolled  away  from  be- 
neath her  feet,  thus  greatly  increasing  the  diffi- 
culty of  the  ascent. 

On  the  mountain-side  were  a  few  bushes 
bearing  sloes  and  haws,  and  here  and  there  a 
tuft  of  grass  forced  its  way  through  the  clefts  ; 
but  the  vegetation  was  all  yellow,  and  appar- 
ently scorched  with  the  heat  of  the  sun.  And 
yet  this  was  hard  to  imagine,  for  a  cold  and 
cutting  wind  was  blowing  over  Erna's  pathway. 

No  sound  of  life,  not  even  the  twittering  of 


THE  TRIAL. 


221 


a  bird,  was  to  be  heard.  Erna  tried  to  sing  a 
simple  song,  but  the  sharp  wind  soon  impeded 
her  utterance,  and  she  was  forced  to  pursue  her 
way  in  silence. 

No  village,  no  house,  not  even  the  tiniest 
cabin,  met  her  view.  Nevertheless,  she  felt 
no  fear,  and  gazed  from  time  to  time  on  the 
silver  tablet  hanging  round  her  neck.  O  how 
many  stains  had  vanished !  But  how  many 
still  remained  upon  the  bright  surface ! 

Toward  noon  she  entered  a  deep  ravine,  and 
surely  now  had  no  cause  to  complain  of  the 
excessive  quiet,  for  the  loud  roaring  of  a  moun- 
tain stream  almost  deafened  her.  The  dark 
water  forced  its  way  among  the  rocks,  and  in 
its  passage  tore  away  large  stones,  rootless 
bushes,  and  broken  limbs  which  had  fallen 
from  the  trees. 

The  rocks  were  so  piled  overhead  that  the 
wild  pass  was  quite  dark.  Erna  longed  to 
hasten  through  it,  but  the  dove  seemed  in- 
clined to  rest  in  this  very  spot,  and,  flying  to 
a  leafless  trunk,  drew  in  its  little  feet,  and  went 
to  sleep. 

Erna  crept  into  a  narrow  grotto  which  the 


222 


FILIAL  LOVE. 


hand  of  Nature  had  formed  among  the  rocks. 
She  searched  her  pockets,  and  found  some  of 
the  bread  and  pears  which  Hannah  and  Chris- 
topher had  given  her.  She  hastily  demolished 
this  scanty  meal,  and  then  looked  up  anx- 
iously toward  the  dove,  for  she  longed  to  con- 
tinue her  journey. 

But  the  dove  still  slept;  Erna  rose,  went 
first  to  the  right  and  then  to  the  left,  recom- 
menced the  steep  ascent,  and  even  went  a  few 
steps  backward,  —  all  in  vain,  the  bird  did  not 
stir. 

Hour  after  hour  passed  away ;  Erna  still 
stood  upon  the  same  spot,  anxiously  awaiting 
her  guide's  movements. 

She  finally  called  her  little  friend  by  every 
term  of  human  endearment ;  she  tried  to  climb 
up  the  leafless  tree  that  she  might  stroke  its 
tender  wings,  but  the  height  was  too  great, 
and  she  was  forced  to  abandon  the  attempt. 

At  length,  after  one  hot  tear  after  another 
had,  almost  unconsciously  to  herself,  rolled 
down  Erna's  cheeks,  the  dove  awoke. 

"  O,  come  down,  dear  little  dove,  and  let  us 
journey  on  !  "  cried  the  child. 


THE  TRIAL. 


223 


The  dove  suddenly  shuddered,  gave  a  mourn- 
ful cry,  and  flew  hastily  down  into  Erna's  bo- 
som, where  it  hid  its  head  under  its  wing,  and 
trembled  so  violently  that  its  feathers  shook  as 
if  ruffled  by  a  sudden  storm. 

The  child  looked  up  and  saw  a  great  bird 
of  prey  circling  at  no  great  distance  above  her 
head,  and  glaring  down  upon  her  with  its  great 
yellow  eyes. 

In  an  agony  of  fear  she  placed  one  hand 
over  the  trembling  bird,  while  she  raised  the 
other  as  if  to  shield  herself  from  the  eagle, 
which  ever  approached  nearer  and  nearer  to 
its  defenceless  prey. 

Erna  closed  her  eyes  in  horror,  but  still 
clung  to  the  clove,  with  which  the  creature 
would  probably  have  been  satisfied,  bending 
her  body  so  as  completely  to  protect  it. 

The  sound  of  an  arrow  whizzing  past  her 
fell  upon  Erna's  ear ;  a  stifled  cry,  and  a  vio- 
lent beating  of  the  air,  followed ;  she  looked  up 
and  saw  the  huge  bird,  whose  breast  had  been 
pierced  by  an  arrow,  fall  into  the  stream,  which 
rapidly  bore  away  the  dead  body. 

Erna  looked  in  vain  for  her  preserver,  but 
could  see  no  one. 


224 


FILIAL  LOVE. 


The  dove  arose  from  her  bosom,  and  flew 
on,  softly  cooing,  before  her. 

They  soon  left  the  dark  ravine  and  entered 
upon  a  wide  plain,  on  which  grew  a  little  grass 
and  heather,  mingled  with  a  few  Northern  trees. 
Amid  the  groves  of  firs  and  pines  appeared 
an  occasional  cottage  or  peasant's  hut ;  and, 
however  miserable  these  dwellings  might  be, 
they  were  still  human  habitations,  and  filled 
poor  Erna's  heart  with  a  most  joyful  sense  of 
security. 

Thus  slowly  passed  the  days,  until  Erna 
finally  forgot  to  number  them.  She  was  no 
longer  the  blooming  maiden  introduced  to  our 
young  readers  at  the  commencement  of  our 
tale.  Privation  and  hardship  had  rendered  her 
thin  and  pale,  and  her  step  was  now  feeble 
and  unsteady.  Her  blue  eyes  were  often  long- 
ingly turned  towards  heaven,  and  bitter  tears 
flowed  down  her  cheeks  as  she  prayed :  "  O 
my  good  Heavenly  Father,  if  I  do  not  soon 
reach  the  goal,  I  shall  not  be  able  to  rejoice  in 
my  father's  recovery,  for  my  strength  is  passing 
from  me  day  by  day ! " 


THE  TRIAL. 


225 


The  poor  child  was  one  evening  making  her 
way  through  a  thorny  thicket;  the  brambles 
tore  her  clothes  and  hair,  not  sparing  even  her 
face  and  hands.  She  had  scarcely  tasted  any- 
thing during  the  whole  day,  and  was  now 
quite  rejoiced  at  finding  a  few  blackberries 
growing  on  the  bushes,  satisfying  at  once  both 
hunger  and  thirst. 

But  even  these  bushes  soon  ceased,  and 
scarcely  a  green  leaf  was  to  be  seen.  The 
ground  had  become  wet  and  spongy,  and  the 
waste  seemed  interminable.  She  often  sank 
deep  into  the  morass,  from  which  she  could 
only  with  the  greatest  difficulty  extricate  her- 
self ;  but  her  patience  never  failed,  and  she  was 
ever  ready  to  renew  her  painful  efforts. 

Night  came  on.  Every  now  and  then  a 
bright  light  would  flash  across  the  plain,  and 
then  vanish  as  unexpectedly  as  it  had  arisen. 
Erna  fortunately  remembered  to  have  heard 
her  father  speak  of  ignis  fatui,  which  are  es- 
pecially found  in  damp  places,  and  which  fre- 
quently lead  travellers  astray. 

She  took  good  care  not  to  follow  any  of* 
these  deceitful  guides,  and  Avas  just  about  ly- 

15 


226 


FILIAL  LOVE. 


ing  down  on  the  damp  earth  rather  than  incur 
any  further  danger  of  sinking  into  the  swamp 
during  -the  darkness,  when  her  eye  suddenly 
fell  upon  a  bright  and  steady  light  shining  at 
a  considerable  distance  before  her. 

She  directed  her  steps  toward  it,  and  was 
delighted  to  find  the  character  of  the  ground 
and  surrounding  landscape  rapidly  changing. 
Waving  grain-fields  soon  bordered  her  way, 
the  twittering  of  birds  fell  upon  her  ear,  and 
—  most  melodious  sound  to  the  lonely  travel- 
ler !  —  she  heard  at  no  great  distance  the  bark- 
ing of  a  dog. 

All  nature  seemed  again  to  have  revived. 
Full  of  hope,  she  hastened  on.  She  soon 
reached  a  high  railing  enclosing  a  beautiful 
garden.  The  gate  was  wide  open,  and  she 
entered  a  broad  avenue  of  tall  trees,  from 
whose  branches  hung  innumerable  colored 
lamps,  throwing  a  light  almost  as  brilliant  as 
that  of  day. 

The  birds  were  singing  as  gayly,  as  if  they 
were  greeting  the  approach  of  a  fresh  spring 
*  morning. 

The  dove  flew  on  through  the  enchanted 


THE  TRIAL. 


227 


groves,  until  the  pair  finally  came  to  a  lofty 
castle  of  white  marble  rising  from  a  terraced 
hill.  A  thousand  lights  were  gleaming  through 
the  windows,  and  the  portal  was  illuminated 
by  torches  burning  with  a  singular  blue  flame. 

Troops  of  servants  in  gay  liveries  passed  be- 
fore the  astonished  girl,  but  no  one  seemed  to 
heed  her  presence,  and  no  one  asked  her  why 
she  came.  The  dove  flew  through  the  lofty 
folding-doors,  and  tripped  up  the  gilded  bal- 
ustrade. Erna  timidly  followed,  but  no  one 
apparently  observed  her;  and  although  many 
attendants,  bearing  fruits  and  sweetmeats  on 
silver  dishes,  hastened  past  her,  yet  no  one 
spoke  to  her. 

She  finally  entered  a  vast  hall,  whose  walls 
were  covered  with  blue  tapestry  spangled  with 
gold  stars,  whence  innumerable  wax  lights 
gleamed  upon  the  gay  scene  below. 

Ladies  and  gentlemen  were  dancing  in  the 
interior  of  the  hall.  The  long  trains  of  rich 
brocade  rustled,  feathers  waved,  and  diamonds 
glittered,  while  the  breasts  of  nearly  all  the 
gentlemen  were  decorated  with  stars  and 
orders. 


228 


FILIAL  LOVE. 


Erna,  dazzled  by  the  unexpected  brilliancy 
of  the  scene,  closed  her  eyes,  but  she  was  no 
longer  unobserved  ;  the  noblest  among  the 
company  approached  her  with  deep  reverences, 
and  begged  her  in  the  most  persuasive  tones 
to  remain  with  them. 

Erna's  eyes  fell  in  embarrassment  upon  her 
ragged  clothes,  when  lo !  they  were  no  longer 
to  be  seen.  A  rich  dress  of  embroidered  silver 
gauze  flowed  down  upon  her  weary  limbs,  and 
raising  her  hand  to  her  head,  she  felt  a  diamond 
crown  in  her  hair,  while  the  little  silver  tablet 
had  become  a  brilliant  diamond  cross. 

But  her  heart  beat  anxiously,  and  almost 
against  her  will  she  yielded  her  little  hand  to 
one  of  the  ladies  who  offered  to  be  her  guide, 
and  who  led  her  into  another  large  room,  in 
which  stood  a  long  table  ornamented  with 
flowers  and  covered  with  dainties  whose  name 
even  was  unknown  to  our  simple  Erna. 

She  sat  down,  and  crystal  vessels  filled  with 
tempting  fruit  were  placed  before  her.  In  spite 
of  her  secret  uneasiness,  she  was  so  faint  with 
hanger  that  she  reached  forth  her  hand  to  help 
herself.     But  the  dove  which  sat  upon  her 


THE  TRIAL. 


229 


shoulder  flapped  its  white  wings  against  its 
sides,  and  sang  :  — 

"  Away  !  away  ! 

Thou  mayst  not  stay, 
No  rest  canst  thou  find  here  J 

Come,  fly  with  me, 

Thy  guide  I  '11  be, 
For  danger  lurketh  near ! " 

Erna  resolutely  pushed  the  dish  aside,  and 
refused  to  drink  from  the  proffered  glass  of 
sparkling  wine.  She  rose  from  her  seat ;  the 
I  whole  company  surrounded  her  with  flattering 
words,  and  persuasive  invitations  to  partake  of 
the  pleasures  offered  to  her  thirsting  spirit  and 
weary  little  frame.  Her  heart  beat,  her  cheeks 
burned ;  she  turned  to  the  right  and  then  to  the 
left,  but  saw  no  escape  from  the  mysteriously 
sparkling  eyes  of  the  whole  company  which 
met  her  on  every  side. 

To  add  to  her  confusion,  she  was  almost 
deafened  by  a  band  of  music,  whose  tones 
rose  clearly  and  triumphantly  above  the  gen- 
eral clamor.  Erna  felt  that  danger  threatened, 
although  she  could  not  exactly  tell  how  or 
where. 


230 


FILIAL  LOVE. 


She  thought  no  longer  of  her  bodily  wants, 
and  resolved  to  fly.  She  broke  through  the 
throng,  and  hurried  down  the  stairway ;  the  as- 
sembled multitude  called  after  her  in  strange, 
wild  tones,  and  the  ladies  threateningly  raised 
their  white  arms  to  impede  her  progress. 

In  the  extremity  of  her  terror,  she  pressed 
the  silver  tablet  to  her  heart,  and  lo !  the  whole 
scene  vanished.  Castle,  garden,  music,  and 
wax-tapers  were  all  gone,  and  she  stood  alone 
in  the  moonlight,  beside  a  fountain  whose 
waters  were  tinged  with  the  hues  of  the  rose. 

Near  the  fountain's  brink  knelt  a  winged 
elf,  who  caught  some  of  the  glittering  rosy 
drops  in  a  silver  goblet,  which  he  then  placed 
in  the  child's  hand,  saying  :  "  Receive  the  re- 
ward of  your  truth,  self-sacrifice,  and  devoted 
filial  love!" 

Who  can  describe  Erna's  delight  as  she 
grasped  the  precious  cup  ?  But  before  she 
could  utter  a  single  word  of  thanks,  she  felt 
an  unconquerable  sense  of  weariness  and  faint* 
ness  stealing  over  her;  and  closing  her  hand 
tightly  round  the  goblet,  she  sank  upon  the 
grass,  and  fell  into  a  deep  slumber. 


CHAPTER  III. 


THE  REWARD. 

We  must  again  lead  our  young  reader  to 
Erna's  home. 

When  Erna  re-opened  her  eyes,  she  thought 
she  must  have  been  dreaming,  but  a  glance 
upon  the  silver  goblet  containing  the  healing 
waters,  convinced  her  of  the  blessed  reality. 
Round  her  neck  hung  the  silver  tablet,  clear, 
smooth,  and  shining,  without  one  stain  of  rust! 

Erna  hastily  rose,  for  she  thought  she  had  a 
long  journey  to  make  before  she  could  rejoin 
her  father,  and  restore  his  happiness  through 
her  new-found  treasure ;  but,  wonderful  to  re- 
late !  she  stood  by  the  well-known  stone  bridge, 
with  her  feet  upon  the  very  bank  where  she 
had  first  seen  the  old  woman. 

Her  father's  cottage,  her  home,  her  all,  lay 


232 


FILIAL  LOVE. 


in  the  valley  at  her  feet.  The  morning  sun 
sh<  ne  brightly  over  the  landscape,  and  the 
matin  bells  called  the  faithful  to  prayer  Er- 
na fell  upon  her  knees,  and  prayed  long  and 
fervently. 

With  winged  steps  and  a  joyful  heart,  she 
hastened  down  into  the  valley ;  she  no  longer 
needed  a  guide,  and  the  faithful  dove  had  van- 
ished. 

Her  heart  beat  loudly  as  she  entered  the 
little  house.  She  stood  a  moment  in  the  en- 
try, and  gazed  through  the  half-open  door. 
Her  father  was  sitting  by  the  window,  breath- 
ing the  fresh,  pure  air  of  the  early  morning ;  he 
leaned  his  head  upon  his  hand,  and  sighed 
deeply. 

"  Is  your  seat  quite  comfortably  arranged, 
Father  Berthold  ?  "  asked  Minnie,  at  the  same 
moment  handing  him  a  cup  of  new  milk. 

"  Put  the  cup  down,  child,  I  cannot  drink  !  " 

"  But  you  have  eaten  so  little  since  Erna 
went  away,  and  she  will  surely  scold  me 
when  she  returns,  and  finds  you  so  pale  and 
thin  ! " 

"  Returns  ?  Erna  return !  "  repeated  he  with 


THE  REWARD. 


233 


a  deep  sigh ;  "  child,  do  you  really  believe  she 
will  return  ?  " 

«  Why  not  ?  You  were  also  full  of  hope  in 
the  beginning,  and  .when  I  questioned  you,  you 
used  to  smile  mysteriously  and  say,  6  Believe 
me,  she  will  return. '  " 

"  But  many  long  weeks  have  passed  since 
then,  and  my  child  is  not  yet  here.  O  who 
knows  in  what  abyss  she  may  have  perished, 
while  I,  her  foolish  father,  suffered  myself  to 
be  cajoled  by  a  dream  !  " 

At  these  words,  great  tears  rolled  from  Ber- 
thold's  darkened  eyes  and  fell  upon  his  wasted 
hands. 

Erna  could  no  longer  contain  herself.  She 
rushed  into  the  room,  and  fell  at  her  father's 
feet.  "Here  I  am,  dear  father!  I  live  and 
bring  you  help !    O,  all  will  be  well  now  !  " 

"  Erna,  my  child  !  my  sweet  child  !  You 
live !  I  have  you  once  more !  I  hold  you  in 
my  arms  !  All  is  indeed  well  now,  and  I  feel 
that  I  can  even  be  happy  in  my  blindness  if 
you  are  only  with  me  !  " 

"  O  father,  you  will  see  again !  you  will 
certainly  soon  see  your  happy  child,  your 
Erna!" 


234 


FILIAL  LOVE. 


The  child  was  nearly  beside  herself  with  joy. 
but  she  did  not  the  less  gently  and  carefully 
bathe  Berthold's  eyes  with  the  precious  balm. 

The  father  raised  his  hand  to  his  eyes,  as  if 
blinded  by  excess  of  light ;  he  thought  at  first 
he  must  be  dreaming,  for  the  darkness  which 
had  oppressed  him  for  so  many  long  years 
had  vanished.  He  saw  his  child,  the  good 
Minnie,  the  woods  and  fields,  and  the  blue, 
shining  heavens.  No  words  can  paint  his 
rapture. 

"  O  my  God !  to  what  miracle  am  I  to  at- 
tribute my  recovery  ?  "  asked  Berthold,  still 
lost  in  astonishment. 

"  After  God,  to  thy  child !  "  answered  a  gen- 
tle voice,  and  the  fairy-queen,  in  all  her  beauty 
and  glory,  stood  before  the  bewildered  trio. 

Erna  bent  her  knee,  and  touched  the  per- 
fumed garment  of  the  lovely  apparition  with 
her  lips.  "  O,  not  to  me!"  cried  she.  "  Your 
aid,  generous  queen,  next  to  (5od's,  wrought 
the  wonder ! " 

u  You  may  believe  so,  if  the  thought  gives 
pleasure  to  your  modesty.  And  now  let  us 
part ;  you  no  longer  need  my  protection,  and 
we  shall  never  meet  again." 


THE  REWARD. 


235 


"  And  the  dove,  the  faithful  guide  ?  "  asked 
Erna. 

"  Was  no  other  than  myself,  dear  child !  I 
wished  in  person  to  guide,  warn,  and  protect 
you.  The  fruits  which  you  plucked  in  my 
kingdom  are  worth  much  more  than  you  think, 
and  if  you  sell  them,  they  will  restore  all  you 
have  lost  through  the  inaction  forced  upon 
your  father  by  his  long  blindness.  I  know 
too,  Erna,  that  your  good  heart  will  not  per- 
mit Minnie's  kindness  to  go  unrewarded,  and 
that  she  will  share  with  you  this  gift,  as  well 
as  your  present  happiness  !  " 

So  saying,  the  fairy  lifted  her  lily  wand  in 
token  of  benediction  over  the  heads  of  the 
happy  trio.  They  fell  upon  their  knees,  and 
watched  the  fairy's  car  of  rosy  clouds  drawn 
by  two  snow-white  swans,  until  it  had  disap- 
peared in  the  brightness  of  the  shining  firma- 
ment. 

It  was  some  time  before  Berthold  and  Min- 
nie could  recover  from  their  astonishment;  and 
you  may  be  sure  that,  when  they  did  so,  there 
was  no  end  to  the  questions  which  Erna  was 
called  upon  to  answer.  The  child  gave  a 
lively  account  of  her  adventures,  touching  as 


236 


FILIAL  LOVE. 


lightly  as  possible,  however,  upon  her  own 
sufferings. 

Erna  soon  became  more  blooming  than  ever. 
The  fairy  fruits  were  sold  to  a  jeweller  in  a 
neighboring  town,  who  declared  them  to  be 
most  wonderful  stones,  and  who  paid  so  high 
a  price  for  them  that  Berthold  and  his  daugh- 
ter were  placed  above  want  during  the  re- 
mainder of  their  lives  ;  and  of  course  Minnie 
shared  all  with  them. 

The  tiny  cottage  was  replaced  by  a  commo- 
dious, but  simple  country-house;  and  although 
Berthold  had  become  comparatively  rich,  he 
never  lost  his  love  for  that  useful  labor  which 
he  had  so  long  been  forced  to  relinquish.  He 
shared  his  superfluity  with  all  the  needy,  and 
never  forgot  to  be  humble  and  pious. 

Some  wonderful  blessing  seemed  to  rest 
upon  all  Erna's  labors,  and  good  fortune  at- 
tended her  during  the  whole  course  of  her 
life ;  but  although  she  frequently  afterwards 
visited  the  stone  bridge,  she  never  again  saw 
a  fairy. 


THE  END. 


f 


